she's a cage for every unclean spirit
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Word Count :: 1,195 Read-only. Began as a thread starter, but I got carried away and didn't want to wish the length on anyone. x3 Ves might have herself a partner soon.

“Isn’t this how the arrangement works?” Vesper asked through gritted teeth. She was exasperated and exhausted, her pale throat and paws stained with blood, her neck aching from the angle she had her head tilted. Her flanks still heaved lightly from exerting herself during the chase, and she was frustrated with the fact that she wouldn’t even eat the squirrel she’d killed. That, and she felt absolutely ridiculous talking to a goddamn bird.

The raven croaked, an unintelligible sound of low speech, and bobbed its head as it dropped down to a lower branch. “Food for spying,” it confirmed in stilted English, folding its dark wings again busily.

The tawny coywolf shook her head, though the gesture didn’t help the migraine threatening to build in her temples. “You just said no,” she snapped.

“Only being…equal,” it said, seemingly forcing the word from its puffy, feathery throat as if it were difficult. It was one of the few who could speak her language, however, and she didn’t hold that against it. After all, it made her feel slightly better about communing with a lower animal. She didn’t quite think that it was a waste of time, but like reading and horseback riding and other skills, she saw the abilities as simply beyond her and pointless to work toward.

“Equal,” it repeated more easily. “Not equal.” Its beady eyes peered at her, and with a twitch of its head it glanced at the squirrel meat lying at her feet. “Stark not liking squirrel. Stark not liking flying about Salsola. Kraa! Meaning dead bird.” Its eyes closed as if that were the end of the argument.

The Optio hissed under her breath, glancing over her shoulder at the surrounding area of blackened trees in search of a clan member who might be eavesdropping. All was silent, however, and she flicked her ears, frowning. Despite her easy days within Inferni territory, speaking to the younger members of the clan and doing her best to be an approachable presence, nightmares had plagued her sleep as of late. She didn’t even understand the catalyst to the dreams, only that they had surged silently one night and had her dreaming of blood and thistles.

“Coward,” Vesper growled. She glanced down at the squirrel miserably; it was her least favorite meal, something she only fell to eating when needed. Out in the wilderness, she would have eaten it out of guilt for taking an unnecessary animal from the population, but at least in the clan she could gift it to some other member. “Maybe one of the others would like it,” she said, her pale eyes flicking up to the raven. “They would spy for me.”

“Ha!” The bird opened its eyes and peered at her. “Stark being only smart bird.”

She snorted. “Only because Ezekiel’s winged shadow is off doing something. At least he can talk.”

A loud croak burst out of the raven, and it swooped down to land on her head. She flipped her muzzle and snapped at it, but it flapped out of her reach and landed on the ground heavily. “Girl not trying. Ibsen telling coyote-leader. Silly girl dead girl, kraa!” It strutted around in front of her, proud for have picked up on her covert worries. It paused then, blinking. “Maybe Stark telling…?” A mocking lilt lifted the bird’s hoarse tones, causing Vesper to growl again.

“I haven’t done anything wrong, stupid sack of shit,” she informed it. “And stop calling me a girl.” It was moments that she was resentful of her young age that her young age truly showed.

The raven got a kick out of that. “Silly boy,” it guffawed, and she lunged for it, jaws snapping. Glossy black feathers rained down on her, and she spat one out. Quickly the coywolf circled around underneath the branch the raven was perched on, body low to the ground and eyes predatory.

“I’ll say a cat got you.” It was an empty threat—just as the bird’s was, she hoped. Her paranoia about Salsola finding out her participation in the raid could easily be written off as general paranoia; after all, others in her pack had been among the attacking Sequoians or had even been attacked by them beforehand. She was not alone in her distrust, and she doubted that even Ezekiel trusted their tentative allies. She was not being a traitor in wanting to scout them out a bit; it was her job as the Optio for the clan, anyway.

The raven made a sound equated to a sigh. “Stark tired of talking. Other birds eating squirrel. No flying around Salsola.” It closed its eyes again. “End of story.”

She stared at it for a few seconds, but it made absolutely no movement, and she realized that she would be forced to admit defeat and leave. Her pride burned from the raven’s easy dismissal, however, especially now that she had gotten used to being highly ranked in the clan. Canine hierarchy was not corvine hierarchy, however, and she shouldn’t have expected to be listened to—especially since she was so awkward about the idea of speaking to a featherbrain.

Tossing the squirrel underneath another tree, one occupied by a decent fraction of the flock, Vesper turned around and padded toward the heart of Inferni territory once again to make better use of her time. After her failure with the raven, she could perhaps take the newest Inferni member out for scouting practice to see whether she would be suited to that tier, or she could see if Nathaniel or Wraith would want to do the same. There was plenty to do regardless of whom she went to see, whether official duties or finding peace and relaxation with friends, and that wasn’t even counting the possibility of heading outside of the territory to check on the other packs. She couldn’t get a stupid bird to fly around for her, but she didn’t need him, anyway; she had four good paws to walk around herself.

She was breaking away from the trees into the open Waste when that voice grated on her ears again. “Boy!” She stopped with a groan and looked up to see the bird circling above her. It tilted its head, its croak less hoarse as it asked, “Boy having name?”

The coywolf opened her mouth to berate it, or something, but closed it a moment later as she regarded the creature quietly. She frowned. “Vesper.”

It bobbed its head and wheeled around in the direction of the forest. “Name Stark, Vesper probably guessing,” it said with surprising humor. “Vesper still being silly boy… Stark watching.” And with that, it flapped away.

The Optio continued to stand where she was for another few minutes, contemplating what the purpose of its final interrogation was. Had she less sense, she might have supposed it wanted to be friends with her—but it was just a stupid raven, and she was a coyote of Inferni. She probably wouldn’t see the damn thing again, if luck was on her side. Shaking her head, she broke out into a lope in hopes of running across an equal conversation partner.


the coldest story ever told

Image courtesy of ChainBound

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