The tearing sound the black stranger's teeth made when the flesh was pried from the corpse did not make her stomach turn, as she thought it might. Instead, she remained unflinching, indifferent, too curiously intent upon her new companion to really acknowledge the boiling sea of queasiness that was her stomach. The way the man treats his young pup is quite endearing, really, and it's such a small, pitiful little thing with mournful eyes and a happily lolling tongue. Itzal, on the other hand, was not half so darling. She grimaced distastefully at the site of his bloodied cheeks and gnashing teeth. How charming. After gently feeding the little wolf, the stallion turned to Itzal and thanked him. Yseulte smiled gently. Such a nice gentleman.
Itzal, though he could not yet understand words and dialect, could discern the tones and flavors of feelings in voices. He seemed a little shocked and uncomfortable after the stallion thanked him, and he simply went back to slashing into the corpse, albeit with less enthusiasm than before. The incredibly rare sight of Itzal feeling bashful, of all things, in the presence of another discerned her far more than the odor of a rotting corpse ever could. Had she ever been kind to the little tiger? One surly glance from Itzal was the all the answer she needed. I am a terrible mother. Itzal had never taken to her as kindly as she wished and he had certainly never looked up to her as a parental figure, and nor had she ever tried to force herself into such a role. Surely he would have despised her even more than he already did. Or would have their relationship turned out differently? And so she envied the stallion's gentle relationship with his young companion and wondered idly how Itzal could have possibly come to hate her so much.
She nodded in response to his offer, and followed carefully after him. After a few paces, she glanced over her shoulder and hesitated. "Come, Itzal," she said quietly. The white feline cracked a bone between his jaws in response and promptly ignored her. The impertinence of the little devil child! With a sigh, she paced after the black stallion and his young pup, trusting that Itzal would find her when he needed a suitable throw rug to lounge on.
Pushing her rebellious companion out of her mind, she focused on her mysterious guide. He was quite intriguing, really, with his bold bronze eyes and metallic rasping voice. His strides were fluid as black water in the darkness, causing her to feel about as graceful and refined as a three-legged elephant. They walked in silence for a time, but Yseulte didn't mind. It was a companionable silence, and as she followed along behind, she was quite content to admire his physique in the darkness. Who was he? Where did he come from? What was he doing in the swamp, and why was he helping her? Bombarding him with too many questions might cause him to withdraw deeper into himself, as secretive folk had a tendency to do, and so she decided to ask one simple, harmless question.
"To whom do I owe my thanks?" she inquired curiously, padding from behind to pace by her dark guide's side. It seemed she had rather made a habit of meeting peculiar gentlemen in dark places, and to be quite honest, she was getting rather tired of being a damsel in distress. The formalities were all very exhausting. "My name is Yseulte," she offered at last, wondering if she was going to be having a one-sided conversation, and deciding that she wouldn't entirely mind. After all, she was quite riveting company, if she did say so herself. The earth was already becoming firmer beneath her hooves and no longer grasped with clinging tendrils of slime and muck at her fetlocks. She was almost sorry he knew his directions so well and wished he wasn't such an astute safari guide. It might have been—dare she say it?—fun to blunder through the swamp together, hopelessly lost and blazing trails and discovering the secrets of the darkness. Such a stern, serious face...could she make him smile? She doubted it. "Are you fond of adventures, sir?"
It seemed an innocent enough question. Or was it a dare? |
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
