Features crinkled into a snarl as lengthened patrol led her through the depths of the marshes. Mud squelching between her toes in ways she utterly loathed but there lingered a silent promise behind all of this. If the rumors circulating the barracks held any merit this would be the perfect place to let out some pent up aggressions. Raiders, murders, or beasts it mattered not which crossed her path for within the mind of a wildfire - they would be dealt with. Trust to enact her own form of justice remained in none but her own fangs. Failure was never an option.
Every lesson was one clung to no matter the angle they’d been delivered though mere words hardly molded a mind as perfectly as hands on training. The excitement invigorating her, the thrill of ivory puncturing flesh something the viper relished in even if it meant brutality against classmates or her even her own tutor came into question. No holding back. No showing weakness. That is what a bond forged of shared hatred had taught her… it was a shame such a man wasn’t around now. A frame of alabaster twisting with smoky tendrils. Where had that son of a bitch gotten off to?
So much could be gotten away with beneath him, there was no promises that any other would be so lenient with her behavior or encourage it as he had. A mind refusing to believe that this may be the very reason he had vanished. Reluctant to lean toward the idea that the army had a problem ‘taken care of’ and yet what other reason could there be? An idea which festered beneath the surface, never lacing the air nor dripping from her lips; but it was there. It would always be there as scorn drove her forward. Paces never slowing until something unusual filled the senses and drew a path to shift. Someone was here, though all which drifted upon the breeze was as unfamiliar as the figure that soon made itself known.
The perfumes which permeated through that woman’s pelt were entirely unknown to her, a twisting scent that touched no other but this stranger. Just where had she come from? In the end it didn’t truly matter for the fiery wolf strode with usual displays of confidence mixed with aggression. Dark lips curling into a threat of fangs as lyrics called out their demands, “You there, stop!” Whether she were one of the rumored or not hardly mattered, this stranger would be treated as a suspect until a purpose and identity lay discovered. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?” As much as Bastille wished to have been able to look down her nose at this wolfess, a crown regrettably tilted upwards to behold that smoky visage and the shocks of red fur adorning it.
