Scars Tell the Best Stories [Sophia]

[Victor Lark]

Hide. Victor could easily oblige a suggestion or follow a plan, but he was not fond of being told what to do—especially by this girl who had, before that moment, acted so subservient. He did not take the change in behavior as a warning, but rather an offense. He stepped out from behind the rock, gripping his little blade and looking around. His expression was as somber as he could muster, almost ridiculous with effort. He could see nothing, smell nothing, but he trusted that she knew what she perceived.

“I’ll have you know—” he said, and then he heard them. The reality of the situation struck him then. He looked down at his dagger: he did not know how to use it, at least in any serious confrontation. He was a runner, not a fighter, and there was no wealthy merchant to recognize him and save his hide, out here. He knew enough to help her injuries, maybe, but if he was hurt, he might have to return to the city. He had gone too far to go back. With a small groan of defeat, he rolled his eyes and disappeared behind the boulders again. Still, he peered around it curiously, eager to see how she could handle herself.

[Sophia]

She arched a brow at his change; apparently he now grasped the danger of the situation. Luckily he decided to finally go into hiding as she had told him. This was the first time they had faced anything life threatening, and Sophia began to realize just how devastating it would be to her if any harm came to him. This gave her a new resolve, and in a flash of light a growling mountain lion stood in her place, ready for the enraged wolves.

Closer they came, the scent grew stronger. The fur on the back of her neck stood up in the anticipation. By now they could hear the fierce barking. Sophia however, did not ever pay much attention to the habits of wolves and the fact that they were not in the practice of announcing their arrival, or traveling in groups smaller than a pack. There were two sets of angry voices that they could clearly hear.

And then they burst out of the brush in a great fluster. Instead of the mangy coats she expected to see they viewed a sleek black and orange pair of well-bred dogs. They bared their white teeth, drool flying from their jaws as they barked violently and struggled to be free of the leashes that held them. Attached to those leashes there were two ugly and brutish looking men, rather surprised to see the angry mountain lion standing in their path.

The surprise they both had quickly vanished. The two men with the dogs became hostile towards her, but the snarl changed in the puma's face. All Sophia could think of were the slavers that ruined her life, and a sudden and gripping fear took hold on her. Abruptly, she turned tail and fled.

The two men were unsure of what to do, until the dogs nearly ripped the arms from their sockets. They let go, and the dogs bolted off in chase.

Blinding terror kept her moving, and she had become a blur in her speed. But the human part of her had taken force back into her mind, and she began to remember why she had been adamant in defending the ground she previously stood upon. She had a vision of Victor, dead and bloody from the dogs' vicious teeth. Suddenly she was more angry than afraid. More angry and, more importantly, turning around. Sophia spun and took a flying leap at the unsuspecting canines.

The sheer unpredictability of the maneuver allowed her to tear her claws into the muzzle of one of the dogs, gouging out its sight. It ran for a few feet more before tripping and flipping front wise onto it's back, not dead but blinded and severely injured. The second was not liable to fall for the same thing, and turned to intercept.

The mountain lion was faster, but she knew that if he kept chase she would be soon outlasted. The only way to beat him would be to take advantage of her human intelligence, which the mutt did not possess. She turned slightly and ran straight for the humans.

The startled bandit had no time to move, and ended up covering his face by reaction with his hands, but his legs stood in a wide stance. Sophia could easily glide through the opening, but the dog was far huskier and got his leg caught up in the leg of the human as he attempted the same trick. They both tripped over onto the ground.

However this did not stun the pooch for long. Soon it was back up, its eyes scanning for where the lost feline ran off to. What it didn't know was that Sophia had quickly climbed the nearest and shortest tree with the hooking claws she had, and now lay almost completely invisible inside of the leafiest branch. Now all she had to do was wait for him to get in the right position.

About ten minutes passed with the dog sniffing around for her, growing frustrated that its prey had escaped. But he was not nearly where she wanted him. She groaned internally, but then had an idea. She slowly lifted her rump and deftly urinated on the tree trunk behind her. This had exactly the effect that she desired. The dog lifted his nose up with a deep growl towards the tree. He took a few cautious steps towards it, looking around as if afraid of an ambush.

Of course, he did not expect the ambush to come from the tree itself. Being nothing more than a beast the canine had only smelled the new scent and that it came from the tree in front of him. With a quick rustle and a primordial roar, the Kelvic leaped from the bush with claws and teeth bared. She latched onto the backside of the large mutt and dug her sharpest fangs into its neck. He flared around violently, but she had a hunter's hold on him. While her hind legs flailed painfully, her grip was firm and unwavering. It wasn't long before the dog fell down, his spinal cord snapped from the position of her teeth and the force of its own shaking.

Seeing their two dogs slaughtered, the men turned around and fled into the forest. Sophia re-transformed, but thoroughly exhausted and bruised from the exertion, smiled at the hidden Victor in success before collapsing next to the corpse.

[Victor Lark]

NoteSome details changed with Sophia's permission.

At the first sight of the dogs, Victor ducked. No matter how much he hated it, he knew he had to sacrifice his view of the encounter in order to remain completely hidden. He pressed his back to the giant rock as if he could melt into it through sheer force of will, trying his hardest not to make a sound. He heard growls grow and culminate into bestial shrieks of attack. How he ached to know what was happening! How he wished he could join her! There was the scraping of claws against the thin gravel road, and between the rocks he could see the animals pursue his pet out of sight. Somehow, his heart was steady even as his breath came short.

“Well, go.” A human voice sounded; Victor’s hesitantly rising body dropped again. The man’s reluctant trot crunched after the animals as his friend lingered a moment, then departed in the opposite direction. He found himself more concerned with the peculiar new face than with Sophia’s plight, so he followed him. His own progress lagged behind the stranger’s, for he held his breath as often as he could and he had to be more than careful not to step on any loose rocks. Between the shrinking rocks that shielded him from discovery, he tried to get a good look at the man. He wore all black, though the cloth was dusted with travel, and a long sword hung at his side. Rhysol’s symbol was emblazoned on the shoulder of his tunic, and Victor’s suspicions were soon confirmed as he watched him reach a clearing with too few stones to hide behind.

He remained watching from afar, heard the man mumble something about dogs to another brute, who sat on the ledge between a small wagon and a pair of horses. A single girl moped through the wagon’s window-hole, twitching like a squirrel. The whole structure could only belong to slavers, he realized, ironically enough. And if the optimistic spy was any judge, they were not very good at their profession.

Quietly, slowly, warily, he moved backwards from where he had stopped, hoping to be rid of the lot before they knew he was there. But he was not looking at the ground, as he had before: the heel of his shoe collided loudly with an unseen stone and, when he dropped the step in surprise, he stirred a few noisy pebbles. All three faces turned to him instantly, and he had no choice but to run.

He scrambled away from the beaten path, hoping that his pursuers might be clumsy enough that the rocky hillsides could be used to his advantage. As he weaved between the thick stalagmites and stumbled through tall grasses, he still kept to his toes. Where the dirt was loose, quick feet sounded like the ticks of a clock; where the earth held firm, he liked to think the thump of his step was only a whisper. He could hear them behind him, deliberate and persistent, though he could not yet see them whenever he turned to look. All the while he searched for a place to stop and hide, in case of the very real possibility that they could outrun him.

There. A hole between the hard black rock and the soft earth. It might have been too small, but his heart pained his chest and he began to think he had no other option. It was as tight a fit as he expected, leaving his pelvis sore from the squeeze. He clutched one of his shoes where it had been pulled from his foot in the haste. Though he was small enough to contort his body into the small hole, it still pained him to remain, both for the awkward twist in his joints and the anxiety of the slaver’s chase. He hated his inability to see anything. If only he could just get a look, just rise into the sky and know where everyone was and what they were doing. He needed to know, to make a decent judgment of the situation. But he could not.

Victor could not guess how long he waited. Perhaps too long and perhaps not long enough. By the time he dared to emerge from that tiny gash in the earth, there were no men wandering around in confusion, no barking dogs, no rumble of a rolling wagon. He kept low as he crept towards the path, and only neared it to find it, not to use it. He followed it as best he could from afar, in the direction he thought his kelvic had fled. He picked up her pile of clothes as he encountered them.

Two dead canids littered the trail, one with missing eyes and a throat cut by a pitying dagger, the other with its neck mangled. Then he found her, naked and bloody, a pile of limbs that still pulsed with a slow breath. There was a smile in that pitiful heap, and with an incredulous chuckle, he returned it.

He looked around before he approached her, his head whirling in an almost paranoid display of caution. He whispered, “We need to go back. Quickly. Before they catch you. There are more of them, and I don’t know where they are. Come on.” As he helped her to her feet, his hand was instantly stained with blood. He could not tell whose, but he tried not to care. His heart still drummed heavily, and no longer for the adrenaline that had begun to fade in his veins. Even he could not tell why he still felt excited. It was as if his blood had forgotten how to move slowly again. He tried in vain to twist his face into something calmer as he led her to their secret cave.

“We’ll get you cleaned up,” he said finally, when he was almost certain that they would not be caught for the breach of sound. “Are you hurt?”

[Sophia]

Her eyes stared up at him blankly as he helped her to her feet. The news did not really register in her mind for a few moments, but when it did there was a visible reaction to it. Her slit eyes widened with panic, making her look more like a lemur than a feline. Desperately she clung to him all the way to their place of hiding.

When they got there reluctantly Sophia let him go in favor of hugging herself tightly. She crouched down low in the corner and stared up at him with frenzied eyes, whispering despite Victor's normal tone. "Please..." She said, "Don't let the bad men come. Don't let them get me."

The only men she saw were the two with the dogs, but one of them had left during her fight. Now Victor was telling her that there were more of them, and it brought Sophia back to that time that she had been caged, the worst fate she considered possible for man or beast. As for the injuries that she sustained, if he managed to clean her off he would only find some cuts and bruises that her fear forced her to ignore, but there were enough that if she did not get cleaned up, it would spell trouble for her later on. For the moment however, Sophia could do nothing but rock slightly back and forth and hope that the 'bad men' did not find her hiding spot.

[Victor Lark]

They reached the cave without incident—or a meal. There was no more time for a hunt. The sun, which had already been low when they set out, shed a watchful light into the little hole, glaring red and bright. They would have to go hungry until morning, or else use his dwindling supply of cold jerky.

With his Kelvic leaning in his arms, Victor knelt and set her gently against the stone wall. It was hot with the Syna’s touch. He retrieved a nearly full waterskin from his trunk and tipped it lightly to her skin, searching for wounds that might need mending. He ran his hand over her arms and legs and daring pieces of her abdomen, wiping away the blood which may or may not have been hers. It fell in thin red rivulets down her bare flesh and onto the ground, dripped from his fingertips as he touched and consoled her. Luckily, he did not find anything but scratches. He ached to know what had happened after he had abandoned her, that she had been left with so few scars.

But even he knew what civility was, and this time he decided to maintain it. She would not want to speak. She was so afraid. He wanted to expound on the fear, to see how far it would go, to see if a glimpse of it would show him what it felt like, but it was too soon. The game of solving her required he move slower than that. His expression was as soft has he could possibly muster; it was almost painful to keep his eyes calm and shining for kindness, to resist the dark grin of accomplishment that pulled at his lips. Too soon, his confused features resorted to limp apathy when he could no longer manage the farce, but he hastily pulled her tired head into the nook of his shoulder to hide the slip. He wrapped his bloody arms around her and held her tight, pressing his cheek against hers. His breath was hot in her ear as he whispered, “Don’t worry. I will protect you.”

[Panna Cotta]

Your Patience is Rewarded! VICTOR LARK Subterfuge 3 Stealth 3 Running 2 Persuasion 2 Interrogation 1 Survival Wilderness 1 Lore of pleasing the bondmate without meaning to Lore of not knowing when to shut up Lore of giving chase Lore of hiding in weird places Lore of having an empty stomach Lore of conflicting emotions Lore of making a promise SOPHIA Tactics 3 Unarmed Combat 3 Running 2 Stealth 1 Storytelling 1 Rhetoric 1 Survival Wilderness 2 Lore of wanting to please the bondmate Lore of turning tail Lore of giving chase Lore of protecting territory and bondmate Lore of having an empty stomach Lore of irrational fear