never kill the light inside me

Her lips turned up at the pup's remark; he would do wonderfully. Intimacy and concern were reserved for very special wolves in Jinx's life—her sister and her shaman, specifically—but there was some appreciation here for Ira's fire. Had the named loa not fled with the wolves, Ogoun would have found a fierce follower in this one. You are white, fluffy, small, and have an insufferable hole in you, she retorted smartly, shooting a smug smile at the child, as though he were an adult who could be mistreated verbally. I therefore propose you and my ass are one and the same, princeliiing.

She was tempted to continue this exchange, finding the child amusing to insult, but the old wolf spoke breathlessly, and then abruptly died before she could say much more about the vision. It might have been hilarious to her, but for the fact he had died on their borders, and was arguably too heavy to drag somewhere else. A cluck of disgust sounded in the back of her throat even as Ira prowled toward the old wolf. Jinx mistook his movement for some kind of grief, so for the moment she remained quiet... Though when he turned to her with an expression as cold and unfeeling as winter itself, she found herself keenly aware of something.

This child was not like other children. Had she witnessed death as a child, particularly that of her caretaker (who had been none other than Nutaaq) her eyes would have welled with tears. This child's expression was frigid... Uncaring. In that instant, her need to possess him was solidified. Even if the gods eventually tired of him, or gave her no more guidance regarding his place in their plans, he was different, and that was important enough.

Tell me, princeliiing, she said ominously, rising to her full height now that the old wolf had left them, how you came to be so... Cold. Do you not care for your caretaker's passing?