The world always has its surprises.

Vesper smiled ruefully, standing—on two legs—with a hand delicately brushing the bark of a tree. A skull adorned one of the shorter branches above her head, the twigs sticking out from the eye socket it hung by. Such strange decorations, intimidating to some weak souls but amusing to her—though she had a feeling that she would seeing these a lot more lately.

The coywolf had not yet made her decision, but Inferni was looking more and more like a place that she could stay. While independent at heart, she recognized the simple fact that living in a group meant more chances for survival. Her days of defying the world, proving that she could live alone, had drifted away with her old life—just like her desire to prove herself as a non-luperci.

All it took was a spoiled horror and a half-eaten squirrel, and Vesper had been changed in the most literal of senses.

But she would always want to wander, she knew—it was why she had risked venturing through the Forest of Nod in the clan territory to stare out at what she had once almost considered home. She was very familiar with this forest, and yet the sight of the leaves blowing past her was almost breathtaking. The trees are changing, too. They were casting off their autumn apparel, scattering scarlet and gold leaves to the whims of the wind. If that wasn’t a sign, she didn’t know what was.

A cluster tumbled past her, a stray leaf coming up and smacking her in the face as she stood. Blinking, the woman gave her head a shake then let out a small growl. Instincts and entertainment would send her bounding off after the leaf, but Ves took a total of one step before she remembered her form. Frowning, she put her hand back on the tree then leaned against it.

There was still a lot to get used to, and there would be even more if she became a member of the clan that proved to be the most tolerable of the groups she’d come across in Nova Scotia—at least, tolerable to her and her beliefs. Inferni was no-nonsense but not the slavemasters of Salsola, and the coyote blood in her sang when she took in the wild scents of its inhabitants. It was a place for coyotes, but it was also a place for half-breeds and outcasts, that shared blood binding them together in the aggressive clan.

Restlessness overtook the tawny woman eventually, and she carefully stepped forward into the woods, leaving the relative safety of the border. While her life was no longer endangered by one particular male, Vesper didn’t know what he might do if he decided she was leaving, and she hoped no one saw her and decided to report it to the Resarcio, either, lest Enkiel believe his patient was gone for good. She would definitely come back, get to know more of the clan and its customs, and do her best to avoid stepping on toes. She hated being a freeloader, but she had a feeling that was going to change soon.

For now, Vesper walked—without any purpose. She tested out her newfound legs, pausing every once in a while to tilt her head against the wind, the breeze combing its fingers through her patchy mane.

Vesper had been wandering aimlessly, but three scents drew her curious nose in one direction. Muzzle outstretched almost comically in this shape, she stepped through the trees at a careful pace. Two of the smells were obvious enough—a male luperci, maybe coyote, and a horse. She frowned at the latter, her past experiences with horses annoying if not too horrible, but that third odor was what piqued her curiosity the most. It was almost like smoke—but funny smoke. Her sensitive nose twitched before her ears took over the surveillance.

A voice called to her past the foliage, and the crackle of fire accented the humming and soft strumming. Blue eyes wide with curiosity, she stepped around a tree trunk and held onto it with one arm, glancing at the luperci. He was quite a sight, clothed more than most she’d seen before, with copper dreads pouring over his shoulders from a headband. There was something in his mouth, the creator of the odd smoke she’d detected.

The older male didn’t seem concerned, having invited her toward him, and she cautiously stepped forward. He looked at ease, leaning against the tree with the odd instrument in his paws, and with a wary look at the roan horse she crouched near the fire with a soft sigh.

“Who are you?” Vesper asked lightly, wondering if she should be intruding—but the heat from the fire felt so damn good. “You’re close to Inferni, by the way.” That statement was not said half as boldly as her question—which hadn’t really been bold at all. He probably already knew where he was, and it wasn’t really her right to be warning him. She wasn’t in the pack officially, so she couldn’t really chase him away, but she wasn’t really a loner, which meant she couldn’t offer him advice as another neutral party.

Her head felt muddled.

The soft strumming of the guitar was delightful to Vesper’s ears, yet it was only background music to the answers she hoped to draw from him. Of course, she would never force someone to answer questions who didn’t want to, as she wanted others to treat her with the same courtesy. The realization that her blurted questions might have been rude made her scratch her neck self-consciously, but she froze at the feel of her fingers in the thick but cropped mane. It was soft and fluffy and not at all like the dreads that fell from the man’s headband, but it was still one of those little things she wasn’t used to.

In languid tones, the dark coyote explained that he had indeed once been part of the Inferni clan. Naked surprise registered on the hybrid woman’s face before she pushed it aside the best she could, keeping composed. He didn’t seem much like he would fit in with the aggressive group, but she remembered what Tedros had said about the tolerance of some of the members. The man in front of her had coyote blood, and that seemed enough. She doubted she’d tolerate a pack full of nothing but killers, anyway.

So she nodded, smirking a bit at his comment about irony. “What is your daughter’s name?” Vesper asked lightly, wondering if she’d met her before. She hadn’t run across many coyotes, and most had been male, so she highly doubted that they’d met. If her fate rested in Inferni, however, she’d meet all of the leaders eventually.

A grin accompanied the man’s name, and mention of the northern pack made her smirk suddenly. It wasn’t quite a smile like she would’ve gone for in the company of a true friend, but it was much softer than before. “Ichika… I’ve met a few members of your pack before—and I’ve heard of you.” His way of speaking confirmed it. “An arctic wolf named Kiara told me about you. She was non-luperci.” Her tongue stumbled over the word—one that she could no longer claim as her own—but she shook her head and remembered what she’d said in reply to the white she-wolf about either getting along with him or being irritated by him. Fortunately, it was the former.

“I think your song does her justice,” Vesper said unexpectedly. She lowered her ears then looked around at the forest. The gentle song of the guitar blended well with the rustle of autumn leaves and the crackle of the fire she still crouched in front of. Her smirk softened even more until he returned the original question, one that she realized she’d neglected to answer.

“My name’s Vesper,” the coywolf said. “And I’m not…fearful of them.” Or most of them. “I’ve been staying in Inferni for a while now as I…recover.” She didn’t think that needed any explanation; her visible, scabbing scars were all the clarification he would need. “But I was thinking of joining the clan.”

She wondered what he’d say about that. From all the sources she’d spoken to, Ichikia no Ho-en was an extremely peaceful pack and Inferni—though it was no Salsola—was not. Then again, what she decided in the end was none of the hippie’s business, and he didn’t seem upset about his daughter leading. Self-conscious again, she reclined carefully into a seated position and dropped her elbows onto her knees. A leaf fell and kissed her ear on its way to the ground.