A Traitorous Scout
Killed by Essala
. . .
No strong feelings, no direct impressions, had emerged from the remaining of the wardens, nor of the followers ... save Embla. The scout always stank of a shivering Fear. Each mission she returned with ever-darting eyes and shallow breaths. For what? For whom? Nessmuk would find out, eventually, however ... much of his attention remained elsewhere, as the stitches between mere mortal and divinity yawned and gaped.
. . .
Nessmuk listened to the word the corvids spread; their tales hailing from distant lands. He asked questions of She that they gave only vague reply. He sent his scouts to chase these illusions and they left him wanting. Apparently, Eldersblood had vanished. Embla told that it was because of She. She had not ended with B'dlam, but had brought forth a reckoning upon most of the pack. Nigh 60 wolves gone in an instant. This only drove his curiosity more. Embla knew more still than she was telling ... He longed to break her neck and yet, and yet ... she could still be made into a useful pawn. Her purpose had yet to be fully served.
. . .
And fate saw to it that perhaps they never would; news came upon the mouth of stranger wolf - named Embla. The wolf seemed to have want to stay in good terms with the shadows left of Eldersblood even knowing about B'dlam and so many others tragic demise; this Embla seemed to know pain and tragedy well. This brought questions about the very nature of the pack from whence she came. She told of an allegiance between it (Bonestrewn) and the former collector's (Eldersblood). And, well, that... posed a problem. Taking on another sizable pack of wolves in her current condition certainly was not in the cards. Especially if they were potentially ruthless enough that Embla didn't even bat an eye at the massacre that had unfolded here.
That seemed the most promising path until Embla let it slip that tales of the massacre were not truly news. The words were woven in the tales of the birds these days.
For now, Embla was allowed to return to her homelands unscathed... and the collection's fate was bound. If blood is what the new rule of Bonestrewn sought, and she had no doubt of that, then some corporeal fodder might not be so bad after all. A little insurance while she recovered fully.
. . .
Embla no doubt felt the burning of these eyes no matter how far form the Spire she fled. She had proven useful in one thing only; a name. Essala. He breathed it like smoke into the cold of the night and felt warm with the knowledge that she would feel his teeth upon her neck. Embla shivered when she met his eyes, shivered when he spoke. As she failed to find anything in the desert. As she failed to find anything after going out - again, again ...
Nessmuk's patience was wearing dangerously thin. He showed his teeth to her, there, upon the Spire, before she left again for regions unknown. Unfamiliar scents clang to the hairs of her pelt; wolves that she had spoken with, she said and yet ...
In the dead of the night, he left Spire, left Home. Fuhǭ watched him go with a lowered head, half-bowed as he followed Embla's trail with quiet steps and veiled teeth.
. . .
"Back again, so soon?" Unimpressed eyes turned expectantly as the foreign wolf stepped from the shadows. It was nearly sickening to see her skulking there in the darkness as if she thought she belonged amongst the dark veil. As if she was safe there - in Essala's own world.
"He suspects me," the words carried fear, and Essala blinked with little interest and far fewer shreds of compassion.
What did intrigue the lead, however, was how - different Embla appeared (nearly grotesque)? "Don't you look - different..." She had looked different, in fact, each and every time. A little worse for wear, a little more ... mutated and strange each and every time.
"It is his doing," there it was that loathsome fear deep in her throat, "please listen to me, this-this transformation is happening to us all. And... and he suspects me." There were those words again.
"And why is that my problem?"
"I... you need me," At that a wicked smile crossed Essala's maw, head tilting as a measured step forward was taken. Embla's posture visibly shuddered, backing away. She quickly began to change her tune, the words and gestures were appeasing and submissive, but not a one of them was heard nor truly observed. How could Essala see or hear anything anything beyond that impudence? "No, I - I mean, that I have helped you and - perhaps I could continue to -"
Without warning, the shadow-wolf lunged with teeth sharp and intent only to kill.
