Dreaded Enemy
#1
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OOC here.

Word Count → 000


Amy touched her stomach gingerly. The swell was noticeable now. Not bursting, like it would be, but definitely sticking out. It made running the shop even more difficult. Males that would have visited just because of her beauty now avoided her, not wanting to deal with pregnancy and children. Females that would have walked past stopped to chat, offering good wishes, but not necessarily buying anything. It made business slow. When business got slow, Amy got bored.


She nodded along as an elderly coyote babbled at her about how exciting it was that pups would be coming, and giving all kinds of advice about what to do at the birth. After the first minute where Amy figured out that the grandmother wouldn't be buying anything she just tuned her out, watching the crowds go by idly. It was frustrating. She needed to hire somebody to help her now, someone who could run the shop while she dealt with this, not being distracted by all these good wishes.


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#2
So far, the festival was not to her taste. How could anybody want all these things, that flew around her at every side? Jewels, trinkets. Only a bare portion of it was any use. She liked the sharing of skills, though, and the clusters of wolves pleased her eyes after months in near-solitary existence in her lofty, empty hotel room. Most were enjoying themselves, too, and nobody was fighting, except during the carefully officiated spars. It was a good thing, but she felt wrong here anyway. She couldn't forget she was on a mission - one she dared not ignore. Every moment was a wasted one in this crowded world of merchants and traders, even though the new focus of her endeavour was a merchant herself. But of course, there would be no acceptance shown to a slaver here, in plain sight under so many honourable eyes. Caspa was quite certain of this assumption. As soon as her duet with the fiery magician was over, she would be gone: she had come only under great duress.

The morning dawned cold and the mongrel spent some time walking around the lake to keep her blood flowing, staring at the ripples and reflections. She went over the magic show once in her head, but decided not to bother any more than that. It probably wouldn't go to plan anyway, in all the chaos of the al fresco performance, and besides they had a rehearsal planned for later in the day, where any last minute hitches would be worked out. At least, they hoped.

When the lakeside became too crowded with excitable luperci to be at all peaceful, she turned back to the tents, deciding she may as well begin her search for her present for Strelein. She wondered at herself, thinking of him before anything else. True, she owed him a debt, although she'd already left him two gifts, quietly on his doorstep without announcing her presence. But she felt that for the work and skill he'd worked into Terra's new magician coat, he deserved much more. It was in no way a sign that she was ever-inclined to turn her thoughts to the flamboyant redhead.

She began to circle the wagons, following a slow-filing trickle of customers seeking whatever they could find. Many seemed to be browsing with no particular idea of what they wanted. In Caspa's experience, very few people knew what they wanted. Still less had the courage to get it. But she was thinking too hard again. She took a mental step back and settled into just avoiding bumping anyone, and turning her nose this way and that for the telltale tang of alcohol. Althoguh, it was likely that it would be more readily available in the evening, so she didn't hold out much hope.

It was enough hope to keep careful track of scents, though, which was a blessing in disguise, as it turned out, for as she approached a stall where an elderly luperci chatted amiably, a smell caught her nose that made her freeze. A wolf banged hard against her shoulder and snapped in her ear as he passed, for blocking his path, but she did nothing but turn her back and raise her hood. From here, she let her eyes search, but of course she knew the dog was somewhere ahead. Amy could not see her under her hood, but perhaps she could smell her too. Caspa kept her back turned, and stepped as casually as she could manage into a side-stall, currently still bare and not yet open for custom - perhaps the owner slept off a late night hangover. Here she pressed her back to the canvas and waited. She could still smell the woman, hear the elder's voice - was Amy somewhere near the old coyote? - and she could not believe the audacity of the filth, to be here right under her nose. She was panting, but not from fright, but excitement. The discovery of her near-murderer was all she wanted, and her eyes darkened with a fervent glee.
#3
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OOC sorry for not matching your pretty post

Word Count → 000


Bored Amy looked out at the crowd, watching the canines move around. There was nothing in particular happening, no one headed her way. They probably thought she was busy trading with the old one, or that the shop was closed and she was taking advice from her relative. Neither of them struck her as particularly good things for her, but that didn't really matter as she couldn't change what people thought. An odd movement in the crowd did grab her attention though. A hooded canine suddenly froze in it's movement. Curious Amy lifted her head, scenting the air. Amy froze as the familiar scent filtered through.


A growl emitted from the female as she realized it was someone she had thought to be dead. The court dog moved to the side suddenly, crouching in a closed stall. Amy chuckled, realizing the canine didn't know she had spotted her. The elderly coyote gave her a strange look, not realizing what had happened. She pushed past the grandmother then, all pretenses of gentleness gone. Her hands fell to the blade at her side. Gripping it Amy pushed through until she reached the closed stall. Moving she stood over Caspa. Hello. Looking for a trade? Amy grinned, knowing that the female had to hate her guts, holding it over her.


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#4
She could only regret that her poisons had been left at home. Caspa had not expected this mission to require any kind of systemic violence. This was supposed to be a frivolous sideshow, not the main event. But now everything had changed. Of course, she had her five throwing knives. They were not created as weapons, for they were kitchen knives from a Halifax restaurant. But they were quality, sharp and well-weighted and their blades didn't know the difference between a potato and somebody's head. Especially a brutish moron like the dog who came now, her approach preceded by her scent enough to give Caspa delicious warning. She waited for Amy to duck inside, then swept her knife through the string which held the canvas door open. The curtain-like door furled down, locking them inside the tent together, just them and a long table and five throwing knives in her belt. Four, now, one was in her hand. The light was dim, but Caspa knew this gave her no advantage aside from blocking out the curious eyes of passers by. She must be swift. And she had to kill cleanly, so none would hear. "I'll trade a broken rib for a severed trachea," she spat with characteristic anatomically-correct savagery which didn't slow her down one bit as she sent the knife whirring into the throat of her enemy. Or would have, except that something caught in her throat, some whiff of air that told her something had changed in the time between their last meeting. Then her eyes shot wide open, and she saw the woman's distended stomach. The realisation baffled her. How could she kill a pregnant dog? The children had done nothing. Caspa could not lay a finger on her enemy. And she was in bigger trouble now than before. So instead of flicking the deadly throw, she let the knife fall from her fingers to the shadowed floor, which could have been considered stupid. She was all but defenceless now. She was gambling on the fact that Amy would see the motion as a peace offering. Perhaps she could pretend all she'd wanted was to scare the other woman. Perhaps she could pretend she was no killer, and merely wanted to regain her dignity. Perhaps.
#5
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OOC here.

Word Count → 000


Caspa held herself with such a flare. She swept her hand, cutting the door closed. Amy sighed, leaning against one of the supports. Of course she would react this way. Amy was the one that should b upset, really. After all, Caspa had failed to die. That was something for Amy to be very irritated with. She smiled at Caspa's words. So the silly mutt had decided to try and kill her. That would definitely be worth watching. Her hand dropped to her stomach carelessly, not noting the effect it might have. All she knew was that it would slow her down. An annoyance, but not something to stop a fight over.


Swiftly the pack member moved to throw a knife at Amy. Already she was countering, moving to the side while gripping her own weapon. Amy turned silently, trying not to attract attention. The knife had never been thrown though. Amy raised her ears in surprise, looking at the deposited knife. Well, well. It seems that you're not a killer after all. How disappointing. Moving back Amy glanced at the knife. She couldn't bend down and pick it up, which was what she'd like to do. In fact, as long as Caspa remained crouched, Amy would have difficulty doing anything to her.


Crossing her arms she looked at the dog, smelling the faint scent of fear. It wasn't much, but better than the rage that had been coming off the mutt in waves. Has life been treating you well? Her remarks were heavily sarcastic. I suppose it must be, considering how you're supposed to be dead. The anger in her voice at discovering that wasn't so was evident. Now I have a mess to clean up. Any ideas on how to do that, Caspa?


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#6
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The woman spoke blasphemy. Caspa's head began to pound with a fury she had never felt before. Even when her own brother had tormented her, her father punished her little sister unfairly or the Guardians from Aniwaya had raided the Court's lands, she hadn't allowed her emotions to rise. Today they were closer than ever. "Disappointing! Disappointing!" she snarled bitterly. "You care nothing even for the lives of your unborn children. The only disappointment is that I cannot kill you here today." She took a deep shuddering breath. She was being foolish: her anger had made her forget herself, and reveal the reason behind her holding back. She wasn't going to underestimate Amy, even heavy with child, for the ferocity of an expecting mother was legendary. Of course, perhaps Amy would be exempt from this quality, considering how little regard she seemed to give to her expectancy. Uncertain and still shudderingly angry, Caspa got up and faced the dog-trader stonily across the shadowed tent. "Begin with releasing all your captives and returning all your customer's payments. Tell me who else deals in living flesh, and leave these lands. Give your children into safe hands as soon as they are born, and then return to my pack for judgement." Although nothing could be more serious to Caspa than this vendetta, she supposed on some deep level she was fooling around again. Amy's question hadn't been meant for her like that. But she had asked how to clean up her mess: and so, this was Caspa's reply. Rather hopelessly, she waited for the shadow-soul woman's answer.

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#7
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OOC here.

Word Count → 000


The bitter words from the dog before her were not unexpected. Amy smiled lightly as the female raged, enjoying how much power the dog had given to her. Every movement, every twitch Amy made would send Caspa jumping, trying to figure out how it was part of a nefarious plot. Hearing her words Amy's hands dropped to her stomach again. So it did serve a purpose after all. Being pregnant might slow her down, but it also prevented creatures such as Caspa from killing her. Pleased she stroked the small bump lightly. She cared for the unborn children, for they would be the first of her family to be born on this land, the first to walk it. She wanted them to be healthy, to be strong so they could help her pull the land into her control.


Caspa stood up, a rather large mistake for her. Amy might have trouble bending, but that didn't dampen her deadliness. Swiftly her short sword leaped to meet Caspa's throat. Baring her teeth Amy snarled at the ridiculous statement. Never. The slave is mine, as is the payment by right. Even if I did agree, I would never turn my children over to such a weak creature. Her eyes had become hard, the false warmth they usually appeared to be filled with ripped away. The beast inside Amy clawed at her insides, demanding to be released, to allow it to rip Caspa limb from limb.


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#8
Though she deeply disliked Amy and hated the things she did, it was almost a relief to see her touch her stomach. But of course, what mother would wish to be cruel and subjugate her own children - Caspa did not fear for the unborn pups. She feared only that they would be raised in the mould of their mother. Amy seemed incapable of understanding that it was impossible for her to lay claim to the life of another. Indeed nothing she said seemed to have reached the golden woman. Who was the 'weak creature' Amy spoke of? Probably herself, but she had not offered to take the children, or even suggested a person other than 'safe hands', which she'd left for Amy to interpret. Of course, she had probably chosen to wilfully misunderstand, as Caspa's clear implication was that the dog was no fit mother. Which of course was nothing but the truth: Amy was not even a fit sentient being, to her mind. Caspa would never rest easy while the other lived, and she suspected Amy felt the same. The rounded belly was like a barrier between them, between the two wild creatures which ached to tear into one another. Her hands were clenched into fists.

"Your words disgust me," Caspa growled. "If you will not submit to justice, you do not deserve it." She'd utterly forgotten about her magic show rehearsal: Terra would be waiting, but she had no idea what to do and all her attention was taken up by the decision she had to make. Walk away and leave Amy to spread her poison: to literally go forth and multiply. Caspa's throat soured, but she knew she had no choice. She could not hurt the innocent. The deed that must be done would have to wait until after the birth. "Who exactly deals with you anyway? There is no slavery in these lands," Caspa sneered, now keen to gather information, hoping her sweeping statement would elicit some kind of contradiction. Then perhaps she would gain a clue as to where to look for her eventual revenge: for it seemed neither of them would die today. She was ready to reach her knives, if Amy chose to attack, but the dog seemed to be actually restrained: perhaps fearing for her unborn litter. This gave her a layer of empathy that chilled Caspa even more than if she were a pure brute. But who knew what happened in the mind of such a being? Perhaps she was simply looking forward to delivering herself a batch of new slave-flesh.
#9
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OOC here.

Word Count → 000


Amy smirked at the words Caspa spoke. Justice? There is none except what we make for ourselves. It's justice for me to kill you right here. She pressed the short sword in a little closer before pulling it back, sheathing it away. Caspa had become something much more interesting than a nuisance. The challenge of taking her, delivering her to whatever the dog's version of justice was, intrigued Amy. The time spent battling the mutt would definitely be worth the entertainment.


The ignorant words the female spat out had Amy laughing. You truly believe that? No, I don't think you do. You know better than that. I'll just leave that as a puzzle for you to figure out then, hm? Smiling she turned away from Caspa, literally dismissing her as if this was no more than a meeting that Caspa had asked for, and Amy had agreed to. She pulled back the curtain and walked over to the stall, pleased with the turnout. This would definitely be interesting. Mindlessly she fiddled with the hilt of her sword. Yes, very interesting indeed.


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