peace will win and fear will lose

The words that poured from her lips were simple things: quickly whispered hymns of awe and reverence for the god that had risen above the status of Atka's dark twin, pleas for mercy and continued favour, and interspersed questions of future direction, all presently unanswered. Sos had never been a god to speak his goals directly; instead, he had the qualities of a trickster god, a selfish and greedy god, who rather than asking his followers for things, demanded them by his very will.

Perhaps this was the reason she clutched her belief to herself now. It was why Lecter had only been the wolf worthy of Jinx's obsession: he was the only wolf who had ever comprehended her calibre of devotion, and the only wolf whose Sos' favour had lingered so long with. Not so long ago, in her childhood, Jinx had sworn to follow Atka's ways of light and be the very picture of noble Warchief, like her mother... Until Atka had selected Kaskae, the corrupt child who believed she could be a god's vessel whilst the current vessel and oracle lived, and Sos had selected her, his young champion.

It was why she had been born with toes of black: Jinx was marked as Sos' from birth, but had come by that knowledge later, in the wake of her disappointment that her half year of praising Atka and walking in her light had been thrown aside by the white bear goddess.

She was abruptly dragged out of her reverie and trance by approaching footsteps and a voice behind her so demanding that the hair stood all down the length of her spine. She did not turn at first; aside from the sign of tension in the lift of her coat, she did not acknowledge Hawkeye. Instead, she completed her prayer, then turned to gaze upon the Alpha of Blacktail Deer Plateau with her lip lifted. How dare you interrupt me at my work, her expression exclaimed as affront wrote itself plainly upon her features.

But for Hawkeye, there would always be words. "Begone," she mumbled half-drowsily, as though weary from her ritual and her work. Without thinking of it, she had moved to shield her shrine from view; it was bad luck for heathens to behold it and believe themselves worthy of explaining its significance, as Jinx had no doubt Hawkeye fancied herself enlightened enough to try. "I told you I would teach you when you learn respect.

You may imagine his whispers in your head, wench," this word slipped out unbidden, one of Lecter's famous favourite titles that Jinx unwittingly picked up in this moment, "but you will not presume to give his commands to me. I am his chosen Mambo, if you had forgotten." Unlike many of the things Jinx said, this admission was not laced with arrogance, but with sincerity. She was, after all, exactly what she claimed to be: at the age of seven-or-so months, Nutaaq, grandfather to her and Oracle to the pack, had told Kaskae and Jinx their destinies.

That title, however, didn't mean Sos spoke to her of his designs. He made clear as little of those as he made clear anything else; a god of mystery and cunning was the black bear. In this, Jinx thought she was clear: she did not deem Hawkeye ready to receive lessons on how properly to worship, appease, and fear Sos. It was likely that even a small and petty part of her withheld her knowledge out of spite, but that small part of her was hidden beneath the wrath Jinx felt at the other female's flippant regard for her status and her religion.