whittling away at the time
#1
The coywolf sat leaning against a tree, on the edge of the Forest of Nod. There was a stack of wood beside her, odds and ends that were far too small to be made into a bow or spear. In one paw she held a small piece of wood that had been carved into a cube shape, and in the other she held a stone knife. She was occupied with carving a hole into the wood, trying to make it into a bead. Her eyes did not stray from her task, though her ears flicked backwards at the sound of a bird shaking a tree branch as it landed.

Alma originally intended to sit and spy on Zana - she thought she might be somewhere nearby, it was close to the mansion where she first met her - but the woodwork she intended to use as an excuse for her activities soon became an obsession, blocking out all other thoughts. The challenge of carving such a small object made it impossible to focus on anything else. A bear might be able to sneak up behind her without her notice.

She even managed to ignore the patches of white she saw from time to time, in the corner of her eye. It made her think someone was watching her - or worse, that her eyesight was going.
#2
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Word Count → 487 :: Sorry for the wait! And for my sake I'm going to assume this thread takes place before Vesper joined.


Vesper panted softly as she leaned her dark-splattered shoulder against a tree. She had been running throughout Inferni’s forest for a long time now, and the pair of rabbits at her paws was the fruit of her labor. That, and a newfound understanding of the speed of the secui form, which she was currently in. The halfling form was one that she had not thoroughly visited since her transformation. It was more comfortable and faster than her optime form, for sure, and even stronger and faster than the other four-legged shape she had been born with. She’d been satisfied by her speed while exercising, even if her agility had been compromised. It wasn’t her lupus form, but it made her feel on par with a gray wolf in both size and strength.

She found the place inside her—a new and unfamiliar place still—and grabbed the concentration she needed for the transformation. Shifting from secui to optime didn’t take quite as long as from lupus, but it was no less disorienting. Her limbs lengthened with sickening cracks, and her perspective changed drastically as she rose up on her two paws. She leaned more heavily against the tree when she was done, her heavy breathing having not ceased. She nearly fell over when she bent down to take the two rabbits in her hands, but she regained balance and shook her head.

Time to go find some Inferni member to chuck these at, Vesper thought with a wry twist of her mouth. She hunted for herself when she was able to, but since she was not yet a member of the clan, she made sure to bring meat for the actual residents too. She had told Enkiel that she would work for her stay here, and giving one rabbit to an Inferni member for every rabbit she ate seemed to be a good compromise. Sometimes she left them near the mansion for some random coyote to snatch, but it was always better to hand them off personally.

The scent of another coywolf made her perk up and walk in that direction. When she approached, it seemed that the other hybrid was busy with something, though Ves was also busy staring at the ginger hair that spilled in braids down onto her rust-colored shoulders. A crooked grin tugged at her mouth, but she said nothing until she had come closer.

It was then that she saw what the woman was working on—something with a small block of wood and a rock? She dropped the rabbits with a thump, head tilted and eyes narrowed. Despite her growing familiarity with her hands and the blades she’d seen others use, the concept of creating something never came to her. Realizing that the woman was too entranced in her work to quite notice, she hunkered down on her haunches, grabbing the rabbits again.

“What are you working on?” Vesper asked softly.


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#3
The sound of a voice made Alma flinch. Her knife stopped moving, and she slowly turned her head in the other coywolf's direction. "Oh." was all she said at first. She was afraid the white thing had started talking to her. Relief shown on her face, along with a bit of embarrassment at being caught off guard "This is a bead." She turned her head back to her work, holding the tiny block of wood to the sunlight. There was a depression where she had tried to carve a hole into it. "I lost four of these while transforming into halfling form one day." She thought briefly of the mad coyote trying to attack Inferni's puppies. "I did not think to take them off before I transformed, and have not found them since."

Admittedly, she hadn't tried very hard. Trying to find four small beads in between Hades' Beach and the Grimwell caverns was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. It seemed easier to create four more beads, even if she hadn't done it before. "Normally I trade for them, but I..." she shrugged and lowered the hand holding the bead, unsure of how to finish that sentence.

She noticed that the other coyote did not quite have the scent of Inferni on her yet, and assumed without asking that she was new. So many coyotes - or coywolves, to be more accurate; it was surprising that a coyote pack would be populated with others like her - came in lately that she had lost count. She did not talk to them directly, but did see them in passing when she was walking from one place to the other. Some part of her regretted that she had lost the social skills she had in her youth and that she did not try to make friends out of any of them.

"Where do you come from?" Alma asked suddenly, in an attempt to make a conversation.
#4
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Word Count → 395


Yellow eyes turned to the newcomer then became immediately relieved, and Vesper let out a snort as she realized how unguarded the woman had been. However, the realization that they were in pack territory gave her pause—and she felt somewhat ashamed for coming to such a quick conclusion. Of course a clan member would feel comfortable within the clan borders. She would have to get used to this if she were to join Inferni, not having to look over her shoulder constantly. Maybe she’d be able to get a good night’s sleep for once.

The female held up the little wooden block, naming it a bead and explaining that she’d lost some before. Curious, the coywolf stepped close to the other, leaning down slightly to get a better look. “Were you carrying them?” she asked, not quite understanding the concept that one of these would go on a necklace. She tilted her head as if viewing this tiny thing from a different angle might help her, but then the woman described taking them off. “Oh.” Sheepish and understanding now, she straightened back up and leaned her shoulder against the tree trunk, adopting casual posture as if she hadn’t been acting like a pup with no concept of the world. Her hand did not relinquish its grip on the rabbit.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Vesper remarked quietly, the words coming out without much emotion. She didn’t know much about beads or jewelry, but it was interesting to see someone else creating something like that. Her own fingers were not yet quite so dexterous to be able to do that—or perhaps her mind was still balking at the concept of actually using her hands for things. Hell, it was still awkward to be carrying prey not in her mouth.

The sudden question did not ruffle the pale tawny female, who flashed a toothy smirk in the other woman’s direction. “Somewhere else,” she teased, before answering the question more seriously. “North of the mountains, in the wilderness. I’ve been traveling Nova Scotia as a loner for a few months now…and some injuries landed me here, where I think I’ll stay.” She could have gestured to the scabbed wounds covering her body, but she didn’t think they needed any explanation.

Running her blue eyes over the other’s large ears, she asked lightly, “What’s your name? I’m Vesper.”


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#5
Alma smiled at the other female's tilted head and then, her sheepish look of understanding. She recognized the casual posture she had adopted as another sign of embarrassment; Alma did that herself often enough. Seeing it in someone else made her want to laugh. "I put them in my hair," she explained. She set the wood down and pointed to one of her braids. On the end of her braid, where previously a purple bead would've hung, was a piece of string tying the many strand of hair that formed her braid. "It goes on the end here, where the string is now."

The coywolf looked the woman up and down, gathering from her many scars that she was a warrior with a temper. Perhaps she was not used to being wrong, or not knowing something. Alma still wondered how she could not know what a bead was. Perhaps her family was isolated, like hers. Before she started traveling, Alma knew very little of luperci life, outside of how to shift and make weapons. "A very remote place?" she asked, as if she did not realize the other coyote was teasing her.

Alma was quiet for several moments as she listened to her answer of where she was from. Apparently, it was, though she had to wonder how she traveled around Nova Scotia without learning things from other Luperci. This prompted more questions in her mind, but Alma feared an argument from the scarred coywolf if she phrased it the wrong way, as warriors like her were prone to that - and Alma was unfortunately prone to phrasing things the wrong way. Her normal way of dealing with argumentative wolves was to extract herself from the situation and show submissiveness. That would not be suitable here, since the woman was new and not of a higher rank than her.

She tilted her head slightly as she considered her options. Then, a thought came to her: "Would you like some beads? I can make some for you." An offer of a gift might put her at ease, enough that she would not consider an argument. After a moment, she remembered the other coyote's question and added, "I am Alma."
#6
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Word Count → 386 :: Made you a present!


The luperci explained that she put the beads in her hair, and Vesper frowned in confusion until she saw the orange braid. Quickly, she nodded, consciously aware of the state her own mane was in. The moment that she’d shifted for the first time, she had panicked and tore off any long hair she might have brown. It was much thicker than in her other forms, but it wasn’t “hair” as the woman might have called it. “I thought it might go on a necklace or something,” she explained. She’d seen teeth on necklaces before, so a bead wasn’t too farfetched of an idea.

Yellow eyes scanned the coywolf’s body, and Ves crossed her arms. She knew she still looked like crap since the attack that had given her the virus, but most coyotes here had either ignored the wounds or teased her about them. Instead, the woman asked if she’d come from a remote place.

“An uncivilized place, apparently,” the loner added, a challenging growl in her tone. Her shoulders hitched up slightly, but otherwise, her posture was defensive and frustrated rather than aggressive. “I wasn’t born luperci. Didn’t ask for it.” It was a proud statement rather than a shameful admission. She was glad for what she had been; it had given her an outlook most of these two-leggers couldn’t have fathomed. She no longer stood out as she once had, but she would always be different from them. “You can probably guess how I was turned,” she went on, gesturing to her cuts. Her voice had been hard up until that point, but it lightened at the end, as she realized an argument would be futile. This was a clan member, after all, and she didn’t want to cement her bad impression on all of Inferni.

The offer for beads was unexpected, and her ears lowered slightly, her shoulders slumping. “Thanks, but… I don’t know what I’d do with them,” she mumbled. She nodded slightly at the other’s name but did not dwell on that for long, instead offering a paw awkwardly—wondering if they could shake hands like she’d seen some other luperci do. Her gesture was uncertain, completely at odds with her scarred visage and temperament. “Sorry if we got off on the wrong foot, Alma. I’m…new to all of this.”


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#7
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OOOH IT HAS BIG EARS. Big Grin Thanks! I don't normally bother with tables since editing the colors makes my head hurt and I can't stop unless it's perfect. And then I realize it is four in the morning and I have class. :x

Word Count → 350


Alma had been expecting the woman to react badly, and so was prepared for it. Her face went blank as she consciously willed herself to not show any signs of reacting to her. Sometimes, showing too much weakness would bring on an attack. It was something she had learned while traveling on her own. "I did not mean it as an insult. My own family was mostly non-luperci." She did not need to change the tone of her voice, because it was always rather blank in of itself. Carefully pronouncing her words made her voice almost devoid of inflection or tone.

The offer of beads seemed to do its work in distracting her, though the woman's voice seemed to be lightening anyway. She shrugged at her apology. "No harm." She stared at the extended hand in confusion for a moment, then realized what she was supposed to do. She shook it, awkwardly, then let go. She had not touched another being in a long time, and the sensation felt unfamiliar and frightening. Alma looked at the ground. "I imagine it would be very disconcerting to be Luperci when you are not wanting or expecting it." She said, then hesitated before speaking again.

Alma knew she hadn't made very many friends since she joined the clan. Acquaintances, yes, but most of them she'd not seen since first meeting them. She was not sure she had made even one person that she could call a friend - but she wanted to change that. She feared growing old, and then dying and leaving nothing behind her but bones. Who would remember her? Her parents were likely dead or lost to her, and her siblings were far away. "You could put them on the necklace, as you mentioned." Somehow Alma doubted the woman would put them in her hair, short as it was. "But if you're not the type that is inclined toward jewelry, then..." She paused and turned her head to look at the scarred coywolf, "I could show you how to whittle. It might help get you used to your new hands."

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#8
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Word Count → 368


Vesper, used to others judging her for her “feral” nature and four legs, had been too hasty to judge this female. The other’s face shut down, an indication that she was trying not to emote, and with slightly lowered ears the coywolf wondered if she was going to be berated for her snappish words. She blinked then looked down at her feet when the woman stated that most of her family had been non-luperci, too, and she could not hide her shame at the revelation.

She wished she could have taken her hand back as the yellow eyes settled on it in confusion. Inferni had already proven to been a clan where the luperci were more wild than the ones outside it; while many lived in the mansion, they did not have silly ideals about copying human culture and often visited all forms, unlike some of the extremists that refused to even take off their clothes. But the handshake commenced awkwardly, even though Vesper was more comforted by the touch of another. She wasn’t an especially cuddly coyote by any means, but one who was prepared to live a life completely alone often found herself relieved by companionship.

“Yeah, it was,” the tawny hybrid muttered at the other’s comment. “It still is, but I’m not going to just shut down because of it. I want to practice.” Practice doing anything, really, from walking to climbing to holding things in her new hands. If she was going to be part of the clan, she wanted to be on par with them; perhaps she could ask for a sparring partner whenever she joined, someone to teach her how to defend herself in her optime form.

Talk of beads returned, as Alma tried to make an offering that would please the scarred woman. Vesper knew that she wouldn’t be able to wear them in hair, and she didn’t know how awkward it would be to have a necklace, either. She shrugged slightly, about to say that she didn’t want for Alma to waste the beads she’d made to replace her lost ones, but the next suggestion gave her pause.

“I…” Vesper frowned, looked at the wood, swallowed. “I would like that.”


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#9
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I don't remember if Vesper was already sitting down or not. If she was, ignore Alma's comment. >.>

Word Count → 382


Alma grinned. There was something deeply amusing in seeing the scarred warrior admit she'd like to whittle. She acted like she admitting some dark secret, and perhaps she was. Alma couldn't imagine what it was like to be a new luperci since she was born with the virus. She was, however, familiar with her own family. They had scorned and looked down upon the luperci lifestyle as much as this woman had, but for different reasons. Her family saw it as contradicting 'tradition', whereas this woman seemed to view it as some type of weakness or a hindrance. Maybe it was, since she had so little time to get used to it.

"Come, sit down." She motioned to a place beside her, "It is a bit hard to whittle while standing up." It was possible, but not very comfortable.

Alma did not look to see if she had done as asked, and instead turned to the pile of wood on her right. Most of the wood had already been stripped of bark and the first few outer layers, but one stick still had the bark intact. She picked up that piece, and then her knife. The knife was stone, recently sharpened, and the handle was covered in twine - because it would be uncomfortable to hold otherwise.

She had chosen a piece of wood with bark on it because the outer layers were easier to deal with than the hardwood inside. They would probably be more satisfying to remove, at least at first.

"This is how you hold the knife," She demonstrated, with most of her fingers wrapped about the handle - except her thumb which was placed behind the blade, on the side that lacked a sharp edge. Her other hand held the piece of wood in place, with her fingers curved around the bottom. She pushed forward with her thumb, shaving off a strip of bark. As the knife moved, she adjusted her free hand so it was behind the blade. "Be careful not to put any fingers in front of the blade, or you could cut yourself." Her own hands were covered with faint lines, scars from when she was too eager and forgotten that rule.

She stopped suddenly, and handed the knife (handle first) and stick to Vesper. "Try it."

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#10
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Word Count → 381 :: You're good! And look at the big bad warrior Vesper. xD


Alma gestured for her to sit, and Vesper let her legs collapse in a controlled way, settling down on her knees until she adjusted into a more comfortable position. Even sitting was strange in this form, though it didn’t feel entirely unnatural so long as she didn’t cut circulation off to her legs. She’d done that one of the first times sitting optime and had freaked out at the pins and needles feeling, thumping around with one sleeping leg—luckily far from where anyone could have seen her. The memory only added to her sheepishness as she looked at the wood.

Vesper stared at the knife, still unused to seeing tools used by luperci hands. However, she remembered the metal blade plunging into her back when she fought the shepherd mongrel—it had been sharper than any wolf teeth, longer than any mountain lion claws. She shivered slightly at the sight of the sharpened blade, though hoped to pass it off as a chill from the autumn air.

She paid close attention to the way that Alma held the knife, wondering how quickly her own clumsy fingers would be able to cope. Her hand clenched and unclenched slowly as she watched, and she smirked at mention of the cut. Ves would personally be lucky if she didn’t sever anything important, she knew. The smirk was wiped off her face when the knife was offered to her, and she took it, fingers closing around it in the way that Alma had shown her, thumb on the dull back edge of the stone blade.

It took a few tries to get it at the right angle to slice off the bark, and with her teeth lightly biting her tongue, she applied pressure. However, it was too much, and despite Alma’s warning, she wasn’t able to adjust her other hand quickly enough. She put her cut finger in her mouth, glad that it had only been a small nick, then tried again more slowly and carefully.

It wasn’t a fast process, but Vesper used gentle pressure from her thumb to shave off the bark. Soon the stick was mostly bare, and she ran her fingerpads over the smooth wood in faint wonder. Glancing at the other coywolf, she quickly cleared her throat. “What now?”


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#11
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Been feeling kind of crappy lately and haven't felt like replying to anything.

Word Count → 258


"The outer layers are the easiest, but the further you go, the harder it gets." Alma said. "Some trees have useful outer-layers - sapwood, it's called, - and in some, it's all weak and useless." She chattered as the woman carved. It was obvious that she loved talking about wood, and rarely got a chance to do so. Busy as she was with talking, she still kept her eye on how Vesper's hands were placed. However, after the first time the woman cut herself, she didn't need any correcting.

She tilted her head and considered the stick, after Vesper had finished carving away the bark. "You could carve the tip into a sharpened point." She made a V-shape with her paws, to demonstrate. "That's good for a basic arrow or spear, if you're too busy to shape a stone into an arrowhead. Though this stick is far too small for a spear." Unless it were a spear for an exceptionally tiny wolf. At that thought, Alma suddenly wondered how insulted Zana would be if she gave her a 'spear' like the one Vesper held in her hands. The edge of her lips curved into a smirk. She might try that later.

For now, she returned to the task at hand. "Be careful with your blade. Don't get too concerned with finishing the piece, or you'll cut too much off. Or cut yourself. Try to make small cuts." Not that she really needed the advice - Vesper seemed to be more patient than Alma was when she learned to whittle.

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#12
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Word Count → 217 :: I totally understand; I had that feeling a few days ago, too. We can wrap this up whenever you'd like to. Smile


It was plain to see that Alma was passionate about the woodcarving, and while she didn’t yet see the skill as particularly useful, Vesper was pleasantly amused at her explanation, glad to see the zeal in her soon-to-be clan mate. She nodded as she worked carefully with the wood and knife, pausing when she finished and tilting her ears forward as the redhead went on.

“I could train little animals to duel with it,” the hybrid suggested in a rare show of humor, grinning crookedly as she tried to scrape the end into a point. She doubted that she could get used to the prospect of handling weapons; having fought without the use of hands her whole life, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to adapt. Learning how to fight unarmed in optime would be difficult enough for her without adding more clumsy objects to the combat.

There was no doubt that this was calming, however, and the woman heeded the other’s advice, taking her time with the cuts. Bark curled from the stone knife, the shavings falling onto her legs and the ground. Her movements became a little more controlled each time, and it was evident that this was a kind of therapy for her—even if that was something she would not admit.


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#13
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I did not notice this had been replied too! Whoops. Sorry.

Word Count → 239


"Try using squirrels." Alma replied, in her normal, deadpan voice - as if she was being serious. Then, she gave it away by smiling. The quiet concentration with which Vesper seemed to approach whittling also amused her, but she did not say so. She couldn't think of a clever way to convey her amusement that would not offend her future pack-mate.

"The last thing you need to do is shave off the tiny pieces of wood that stick out. Use the dull edge of the knife. Otherwise, anyone who tries to hold it might get splinters. If you're not careful, they'll get under the skin on your hands and won't come out." Since coming to Inferni, she had been using her voice more often. She was starting to get used to talking and hearing herself talk, her words becoming a little less stilted each time. "My father taught me how to whittle, and he claimed he had one stuck beneath his skin that he could never get out. Claimed he could tell when it was going to rain because it hurt, too."

A cool breeze blew over her fur, and Alma felt the creeping sensation of being watched - not by Vesper, but by something else. The fur on the back of her neck stood on end. One ear flicked behind her, but she heard nothing. She tried not to look behind her, or in the corner of her eyes. She didn't want to know. "Of course, he always made up stories." She shrugged, trying to be casual despite the instinctive fear creeping up her spine.

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#14
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Word Count → 210


The tawny woman stared at the redhead with an expression of mock horror when Alma calmly suggested the squirrels. “Those are the last critters I want to arm,” Vesper said with revulsion, smirking. She could only imagine what the little rodents would do with tiny spears as opposed to pinecones and acorns. She wondered how many miniature stab wounds it would take to kill a luperci.

She nodded at Alma’s additional instructions, wincing at the thought of getting a splinter stuck in her pad. She scraped the miniature points away, running a finger carefully along the path she’d shaved to make sure that there weren’t any. If there were, she simply went over it again, once again falling into a relaxed lull due to the monotonous motions of the carving. She doubted she would ever be an expert whittler, but it was something to consider next time wandering didn’t help her restlessness.

The other coywolf spoke of her father and his claims, and Vesper glanced sideways at her. “Mine too,” she murmured, turning back to the stick in her hand. He had only tried to feed his children one lie, but it had been enough to steal Sparrow away. Who knew what other stories were pouring from his mouth now.



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#15
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Word Count → 208

There was a tendril of a white something in the edge of her eye. Her fur was starting to rise, making her look unflatteringly like a puffed-up cat. She tried to focus on Vesper's whittling, on the movement of her blade to calm herself. It worked, somewhat. "Once you've got the splinters off, you should be done - unless you'd like to sharpen it a bit more." The coywolf picked up the bead and turned it over in her hands. "What sorts of stories did your father tell you?" Alma asked, hoping to make conversation to further distract herself. It didn't occur to her that Vesper's father might have told unpleasant stories, or stories that were not myths, fables and tall tales, but lies designed to manipulate and hurt.

Alma set the bead down, and picked up another stick - this time without any bark. "If you want to do another, we could catch some squirrels and make them fight." She said suddenly, surprising herself with the suggestion. "I hear they stay in those little balls made of leaves during the winter." She pointed upwards, at the tree's canopy. Common sense said that trying to make prey fight wouldn't work, but if it didn't, they could always eat them.

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#16
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Word Count → 331


Had Vesper been paying any less attention to the wood in her hands, she would have noticed that her companion was uneasy about something. However, even if she did see the other’s fur bristling, she assumed it was because of the cold; winter was making itself none these days.
She nodded faintly and tapped the point of the miniature spear with her finger; there was a tiny prick, though it wasn’t that sharp. There seemed to be no point in sharpening it any more, though, since it would be useless as an actual weapon. She turned the stick over in her hands a couple of times before the other’s question reached her ears.

“Hmmmm.” The coywolf looked off to the side, one clawed hand reaching up to scratch her shoulder. “Well, might’ve been a lie that he even was our father,” she murmured, but seeing the dark wolf grinning like a kid over the body of her mother had erased most of her doubt. Had he not had any blood connection with the two hybrid children, she assumed nothing would have held him back from killing the both of them, anyway. “He coaxed my sister into coming with him, after he…” She shrugged, not wanting to really disclose all of the story. “He just spun stories about the great life he had, about how much he cared about us. I guess it’s a far cry from tales about splinters,” she added with forced humor, but she didn’t want Alma to feel guilty about bringing it up. The loner had been asking for it by mentioning Marcel at all, anyway.

The suggestion made the hybrid’s blue eyes widen before she let out a laugh. “Squirrel torture sounds good to me,” she teased, but she offered the knife to Alma, deciding that she could sharpen the stick faster. Even if throwing the spears at the squirrels didn’t yield any hilarious results, Vesper knew that they could skewer the creatures and eat them later.


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