Poine never liked the traveling part of her job. Certainly, her work had its benefits -- namely, the joy of slaughter, the scream of anguish, the cause and cessation of pain -- but all the walking was very tiresome. She was a surprisingly petite wolf, for how deadly she was. She wasn't quite small, but she was small-statured, long legged and delicate-looking. Were it not for the monster's image that lay over her visage -- the image of their Creator, of Father, of the demon they were all created to resemble -- she would have been quite lovely. But she wasn't. She was marred by darkness and blood and a bitter history, and no male in his right mind would touch her.
She was alright with that.
Nevertheless, her delicate body made traveling exceedingly uncomfortable. It hurt her paws. And it was very boring. And they had to stop all the time to feed Peino.
"Do you smell salt yet?" She asked, a bit crossly, glancing over her shoulder to the wolf that had followed her since their shared demonic infancy. "They said keep walking west until we smell salt, then turn south. I think they lied." Her brow furrowed, and she licked her lips. It had been a long, long time since a client had lied to her. She almost wished that they had, so she could turn around and rip them apart.
