[m] name a direction
#1
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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

you don’t want to
wake the dragon, do you?

The coyote girl sobbed as he shoved her away, and André curled his lip. Ta gueule, he growled, reaching over to give her a clawed smack. She let out a peep of a yelp but managed to stop her damnable weeping.

Normally, such a thing did not bother André Fontainé, as it rendered the other canine weaker than him (which was safe, it was safe to be strong), but everything grated on his nerves these past few weeks. He was weary from traveling, and it seemed that he was getting nowhere. He managed to get the name of nearby towns and regions out of the luperci he met, but nothing was leading him to Omni.

His crimson eyes narrowed dangerously, and the girl pulled the blankets up to her breasts. He ignored her in favor of glaring at a wall, his claws curling inward and cutting into his palm. He didn’t entirely have a one-track mind, but it only took a stray thought to remember the vow he’d taken when he learned the stupid whore had fled Quebec. Bits and pieces of information started to form a picture, but it escaped him and left his journey meaningless. In the meantime, he’d tried to enjoy himself, but that always went about as well as expected. Snorting, he glanced back at the coyote.

Where did you say you were going? the dark sable male asked casually, leaning back on the bed. He remained propped on an elbow, his cheek drooping against a black fist.

The girl stared stupidly at him for a moment then smiled timidly, her ears falling back against tangled bronze hair. Nova Scotia, she murmured. My mother—she came from over there. I thought I could follow in her footsteps, y’know, go back and trace my heritage. Could be I have more family I never knew about. She smiled slightly more boldly at that, taking his relaxed posture for permission.

He could easily wipe that smile off her face, but he had no reason to cow her into submission; she’d wept and screamed and begged enough when he had his way with her. Other than that, she had been pleasant company, and pleasantries went rewarded by André. The girl did not presume to be more than she was, did not challenge his authority, and she was quite beautiful with her cream and gold pelt.

I wouldn’t want to meet family I didn’t know, the jackayote complained. A surname makes you think you know them, but you don’t. Even the family you know can turn out bad. Like his slut mother. He scratched his temple.

She nodded uncertainly, then piped, But what about a pack?

He flattened his ears, which caused her to scoot back swiftly. Shoving himself up into a sitting position, he considered the statement then answered dully. Packs are good for nothing. His pack hadn’t helped his family, hadn’t stopped his father from drinking himself into his grave, hadn’t brought justice to his mother. All they had done was provide a few whelps to beat and a job of pummeling anything that didn’t belong. And then, when it was done, the hypocrites booted him for that girl.

Oh, not the Nova Scotian packs, the coyote said.

He growled sharply. You think I’m wrong? he demanded. When I say packs are no good, they’re no good.

She hunched her shoulders but had the gall to go on anyway. Well—maybe they are, but you haven’t seen them—and—and well, maybe you are right because I haven’t seen them either, but I heard—my mother said—hers was good, it was a clan of coyotes and warriors and the others feared them, but they took care of their own, and the leader was brave and worth following and everything.

André frowned. A coyote pack?

Taking that for encouragement, the girl nodded. Inferni.

His red eyes narrowed once more in thought, and he turned away from her. He could feel her gaze on his back, on the dragon tattoo snaking down it, but he paid her no mind. He doubted Omni would be strong enough to run along on her own; she had always struck him as a bit weak, needing wiles to get what she wanted. It had been endearing, once, before her traitor nature revealed itself—but she needed luperci to feed off of. This coyote clan might be somewhere for her to turn.

He frowned. There’s someone I know, he began carefully, who might want to join a pack like Inferni. He turned to look at her big eyes, smiling softly. If I’m right, we could travel together, since I need to find this person and we’re headed the same way.

The coyote girl smiled faintly and nodded. If she didn’t want to go with him, she was doing a good job of pretending. Such a lie was dangerous, but he personally wouldn’t mind if she abandoned him the second he fell asleep. It was better to have her run off at the start than fall for her pretty face and get hurt later.

One thing, though, André added. You said Inferni is for coyotes, and the woman that I’m looking for—he noted the wariness in the gaze, and decided to meet her expectations—is not just coyote. Her mom was a wolf-fucker or something. The word slid acidic off his tongue and left a burn in his chest; he remembered that his own mother cried when he told her that her wolf was dead. Would Inferni let in someone whose mom was a wolf-fucker? he asked, leaning forward slightly.

She flattened her ears and ducked her head. I—I think—well—the leader—was part—part wolf, or something. I mean, not all of them—not all of the members were pure coyote. My mother said most were—well, coywolves.

André snorted derisively. All right, then, he said, hiding his excitement. While many of those in the apartments had been hybrids, the thought of wolves muddying the blood bothered him slightly—but Omni was a hybrid, and if Inferni allowed them, then there was definitely a chance he would find Omni there.

And then… And then.

André Fontainé smiled.

table by raze; image from wikipedia commons

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