Thicket of Secrets incedo

Six. Six was two more than the four she had fled the River with, the three children would make nine when they were old enough. Almost old enough already. But something told her this was not the time to be mentioning younglings, not with danger lurking so close only moments before. That smell. She couldn’t shake it. It was burned into her brain, she had thought she was safe here... but after the past year hadn’t she learned already? Nowhere is safe. The air between them was tense, but she was growing used to it, the feeling of balancing on a knifes edge, it was a delicate dance, but he hadn’t attacked yet, she doubted he would lash out with the exit he began to take. No names had been exchanged, there was no need to swap them now. They would recognise each other by scent and that would be enough of a sign for her. She did not warn the man to stay away, but she did not openly invite him through her door either. She listened closely to his words and a smile passed her lips, not quite lighting her eyes. She was more than aware loyalty had to be earned, she had done it before, and she would do so again. “There will be no mistakes this time.” she muttered in promise, not so much for his ears but for hers. Her eyes did not turn to the sky at his warning of a storm, the scent had brought tension to her core - she was more than aware it was not the weather he spoke of. His final words were not needed, but they drove the point home none the less. They may not be allies, but it was sound advise none the less - and not something she would be tossing to the wind on a whim. He was right, after all. It was a bad sign, that smell, the way the stranger had fled so suddenly. A nod was given, in acknowledgment and thanks before she turned to take her own leave. A strange encounter, no doubt. One she would not forget soon, and she had to wonder if this was the last she would see of the tawny man who spoke in tongues? Something told her No.

death claims all things. it is law, not punishment, to die
OMNIA MORS POSCIT. LEX EST, NON PŒNA, PERIRE
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Mapplethorpe

A nod was given and he returned it impulsively, drinking in the satisfaction that she actually understood what he meant to underhandedly convey to her. She not only understood, but she knew. Whether or not she had been through something traumatic as to grant her the insight of preparing herself for something beyond physical hardship, he could care less. All that was needed was that she was aware that either he or the snooping stranger potentially had tricks up their sleeve. As quickly as she had left, Mapplethorpe was ten steps ahead, traveling on another aimless route.

As he picked up his pace to a steady trot between the dense, snow-covered thickets, he entertained himself with the idea of meeting this forthcoming monarch again... maybe even on better circumstances. His tail began to sway. Six, he decided, was enough. There would still be numerous caches to be had and the even number granted him the idea of a pack working in three teams of pairs in order to take down large prey. He could eat as luxuriously as he had in his younger years, and even live on a land that was possibly protected by competent sentries or just high enough to be out of reach from wandering loners. Even for a selfish creature like Thorpe, the thought of even serving the woman, thinking of joining her ranks was not so far out as to be out of the question altogether. The only important question to consider, he perceived, was whether or not he would be able to actually thrive under her reign.

(EXIGO.)