Saturday, August 25, 2012

Ingratitude's Cost


She stood in the moonlit clearing and tried to appear at ease. She was not. He’d told her he would meet her at the first hour past sundown. Though she could not know for certain, she had no doubt it was far later than that now.

She would accept much from him, but not this. Such burning nonchalance…such abject disinterest from those she’d turned was unthinkable. While she fostered no formal pack, demanded no ritual obeisance, there were certain accepted proprieties.

He should make at least some token showing of gratitude for having been blessed with the powers of the Wolven. Instead, he flaunted his strength and ignored her warnings of restraint.

When, finally, he appeared his clothes were torn and he smelt of blood and the sweat of the hunt. Reaching for the silver blade beneath her cloak, it was her time for nonchalance as she prepared to punish him for his reckless disobedience.

This story was written for the Saurday/Sunday Tails weekly flash contest.

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