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Lessia was feeling downright murderous, and she didn't know who cared. Teeth bared in a feral snarl, she launched a vicious kick straight into the trunk of a small tree. As she'd predicted, the kick was enough to strip the bark where her sharp hooves connected; as she hadn't expected, the kick snapped the trunk clean over, sending an echoing 'crack' through the surrounding trees. She was taken aback only momentarily; even though it was a young tree, there was something satisfying about causing that kind of damage. At the moment, all she wanted to do was cause damage!

An angry fire blazed in her empty eyes as she surveyed the damage; this was the fourth tree she'd lashed out at so far, but the first one to break. Maybe she should seek out bigger trees...or something else to calm her nerves.

It had been more than a day since the Kalona stallion had gone on his merry way, but she was still seeing spots of rage every time she thought about him. She knew that it wasn't healthy to dwell, but coming on the heels of the Kalona War, her run-in with the Kalona stallion had been enough to flip her from depression into rage. How had she been so blind as to believe him? Just because he told a sob story about being a mixed breed, she had believed his lies and allowed him to manipulate her into an even worse mental state.

She had been fortunate, she supposed, in that eventually it had clicked that he was up to no good. The ensuing fight had left her a bit sore, but she would rather have dealt with a lot more physical pain if it had meant expunging him from the very surface of the earth! Damn him, his mixed blood, and his whole cruel lineage!

Snarling once more, she lashed out at yet another small tree, launching into it with an almost bestial savagery. If she couldn't have the stallion at the end of her fangs, she would just make do with an acceptable substitute. Even if that substitute was a tree!

Lessia might have been distracted, but she was still a hunter, still a part Kalona. It was not her way to be snuck up on, and her first thought when she heard the snort was that the Kalona was back. Inwardly, she cursed herself for her lack of attention, her distraction only another item to add to her current list of vulnerabilities. Still, if the Kalona expected her to just keel over in fear or paranoia, he had another thing coming.

The snort had barely finished before she was whirling towards the source, her lips still curled in a vicious snarl that trailed off when she realized that although her 'surprise guest' was a stallion, he wasn't the Kalona. Not only was he not the Kalona, he was not a Kalona at all...although from his size alone, she believe anyone possibly making that mistake. He was huge!

Still, in her current mood she wasn't going to make any assumption. He might not be a Kalona, but he had managed to get close without her detecting him. More to the point, he was offering himself as a punching bag, a fact which she could take to either indicate his was arrogant or incredibly tough. Possibly both, for all she knew.

She straightened up slightly, feeling the familiar pull in her recently healed front leg. Obviously she'd overdone it again; if she didn't rein in her temper, she'd end up dealing with another convalescence. No, thank you.

Lessia eyed the stallion again, this time with slightly less hostility. "Thanks, but no thanks. If I can't beat on the one I want, I'd rather not beat on anyone. There's no satisfaction in beating on a stranger." She paused, glancing from the stallion to the four damaged and one broken tree. They did look pretty sad, and that thought gave her no satisfaction at all. Damn.

"Thank you for interrupting, though. All I'm going to do if I keep this up is get angrier, and that won't help anything."

Why? Why, indeed.

Sometimes, talking to one's self could be a beneficial thing. If you were aware of possibilities, you could discuss them with yourself rationally, weighing the pros and cons. Sometimes, it was simply theraputic to hear the sound of a voice, even if it was your own. But sometimes, it was impossible to have a real conversation with yourself, because something was standing between you and having all of the facts. Lessia had been perfectly content to destroy trees and potentially reopen old wounds, telling herself that she only did this because the real enemy was nowhere around.

But as the stallion so baldly stated it, why WASN'T she hunting for Ahriman? True, she couldn't fly right now, but she didn't need flight when she had years of hunting experience to fall back on. True, she'd only ever hunted out of a basic need for sustenance, but the same basic principals applied. It would have been completely within her power to track the stallion, and it would have given her an outlet for this pent-up frustration she was blaming on him.

Yet she hadn't gone after him, why?

For a long, silent moment, she stared at Growl, her pupilless white eyes staring at him blankly. But at the end of that moment, she smiled, shrugged, and gave him a slightly mirthless laugh. "Why, indeed?" Just as abruptly, she gestured to their surroundings. "You might as well make yourself comfortable, Growl; there's fresh bark, and I've been told the grass is good here, if that's your thing. There's also a spring just a little ways back there. But I've got to say, if you want any sort of proper answers you're probably going to be waiting a while. Nothing personal, but you know what they say about once burned."

An earlier version of herself might have spoken cavalierly to the stallion about anything, answering anything he asked with almost reckless abandon. Even after the battle which had nearly killed her best friend and left her a temporary cripple, she was still trying to be open. But all it had taken was one stallion taking advantage of that openness, and she was clammed up tighter than a mussel. Even if Growl wasn't a Kalona, she had learned to be wary.

Well, that was unexpected. Lessia was so used to using things like slang and hyperbole herself that it hadn't occurred to her that this stallion might not be familiar with such things. She had said he should make himself comfortable as an indication she didn't feel like talking about the matter any farther, not an actual indication for him to stay. However, it seemed no sooner had the words left her lips than the large stallion was literally making himself comfortable in what had only moments before been her personal little haven.

One dark brow arched in a somewhat bemused fashion as she studied the stallion with greater scrutiny. It was possible he was being facetious, after all; knowing perfectly well what she meant, but pretending to take her words at face value as a joke or for some sort of personal gain. However, she couldn't see any trace of humor or levity, no outward trace of smugness or anything else that indicated he was pleased with his little joke. Either he was a master at schooling his expressions, or he was quite serious in his literal translation of her words.

Well, whichever it was, it wouldn't hurt her to be hospitable for a time. She was in danger of turning into the worst kind of hermit, the kind who was suspicious of everyone and everything and took out her random outbursts of anger on innocent greenery.

She stepped back, giving the large stallion space as he settled himself down. He was proving to be quite the interesting fellow, even if his manner was proving incredibly placid. In spite of his strange looks and his massive size, his steady voice was downright comfortable. And she could certainly relate to being judged on the basis of her looks alone.

At his admission of ignorance, Lessia crooked a slight smile. There was another assumption, getting her nowhere. "Pretty much, yes. The full saying is 'once burned, twice shy.' It means that if you suffer negative consequences from something once, the next time you're in a similar situation you're doubly cautious." She paused, glancing over at the spring in response to his follow up question. "And I don't know; I've never been desperate enough to want to taste fish, so I've never looked for them. I prefer my meat on the run, as it were." Realizing how that could be construed, she added, "I also prefer my meat of a non-Soquili, non-familiar variety, just so we're clear. I'm no monster."

Growl was certainly an unusual stallion when it came to looks, Lessia reflected as he gave her a somewhat atypical smile. However, it and he seemed genuine enough, and she returned his smile with a somewhat warmer smile of her own. She had had many good reasons to take to the woods on her own, but the simple facts of the matter were that she was not used to being alone, particularly not for long periods of time. She and Seyx, her best friend and previously inseparable companion, had only parted ways when it was time for Lessia to hunt and had always met up again afterwards. Those had been absences of a few days; it had been months now since she'd been on her own to heal and reflect.

Both of those things took more patience than she was comfortable giving.

Perhaps that was why she'd been so vulnerable when Ahriman had come along; she'd believed him because it was an excuse to latch onto company, in spite of her better judgement and her instincts. Growl was different; he wasn't setting off warning bells the way Ahriman had, but he was inspiring caution of a whole different sort. Massive size aside, there was still something about him that inspired one to caution.

Even before he was making casual reference to the taste of Soquili.

He said it so mildly, it almost disappeared into the conversation. However, Lessia heard it and caught it, unsure exactly what an appropriate response would be. It seemed almost a statement of fact, not an attempt to provoke a reaction. Curious and curiouser.

Well, she'd seen a lot in her time, and it wasn't her role to pass judgement on him. Though she couldn't deny the fact she felt twin prickles of curiousity and paranoia. He might say he disliked the taste of Soquili...

But then he'd answered her question, before she'd even needed to figure out how to phrase it. He hadn't been the hunter, he had been the foal who had been introduced to tastes of a varied scope by a mother who had brought home the bacon...and apparently, anything else that moved.

"It sounds like your mother introduced you to quite the variety. She must have been quite the interesting Soquili," she said carefully. He had used the past tense in reference to his mother, but that could just be because he was grown now and responsible for his own food. "My family didn't have quite that wide a diet. Most of us are hunters, but a couple of my siblings, along with my father, can't stomach the stuff and only eat grass and other plants. I've tried that before, but it never does anything for me except make me ill. Especially fruit; I can't handle sweet things like that." And vomiting was no fun.

Lessia might have relaxed her guard where Growl was concerned, but some things were purely instinctive. When the deep, rumbling growl came out of the stallion, her reaction was swift; she shot backwards, widening the distance between the two of them, and sank into a defensive crouch, her own fangs bared and ready. However, in the blink it took for her to accomplish this all, she realized she was overreacting; whatever the cause of the growl, it was not, apparently, a sign of aggression on the stallion's part. Oh well, better safe than sorry.

With as much nonchalance as she could muster, she straightened back up and took a step closer to Growl, hoping this sign of confidence would smooth out any...awkwardness her reaction might have caused. Though given the intensity of his expression and the apparent introspection of his words, maybe he hadn't even noticed.

Once again, he'd managed to surprise her. She had met other Soquili who didn't agree with their parents, but she had never heard anyone refer to a parent as a monster. Not even her father, whose mother had told him she would kill him if she ever laid eyes on him again. Antony had restrained herself from passing judgement on the grounds that his mother was mentally unhinged, and she had at least given warning. A true monster would just have attacked.

From the sound of it, Growl hadn't been so fortunate. He sounded matter-of-fact, but Lessia could only imagine what his youth had been like to inspire such thoughts. She only had to reflect on the set in her father's jaw when he had explained to his children why they must never seek out their grandmother; her father, who generally saw the lighter, humorous side of everything. Her father, who in spite of his huge size was the sweetest teddy bear of a Soquili anyone who could ever hope to meet.

Her father, who had taught Lessia, and all of her siblings upon reaching foalhood, how to fight, and how to kill, because of what they were. Not in order to attack...but in order to defend.

She shook that off, those thoughts a too-easy transition to the Kalona war. That was all too recent a memory, and the whole reason she was here; the last thing she wanted to do was reflect on those events any more than necessary. Easier to accept his change of subject, with gratitude. "Well, I'm the oldest; I have five younger siblings, though I only grew up with two of them. It was a bit rough and tumble, but we had a good time. I guess you could say I liked to keep an eye on things; I took my oldest sibling role very seriously, and I was more than willing to wup my brother's a** if he tried to challenge me." She smiled; that was a rather happy memory. It as a sore spot for Anthone that his sister could beat him in a fight, even now that they were grown.

It sounded like Growl couldn't relate to that, and she once again felt a wave of pity for the stallion. It was good that he'd found better role models and a better environment than with his mother, but she couldn't imagine that sort of upbringing. Family was a blessing...at least in her case.

Then again, neither of her parents was a Walker.

Her instinct at that news was to back away; never mind Kalona, every Soquili in these lands knew of the darkest darkness, the almost mindless evil that was the skinwalkers. Anyone without a death wish should give them a wide berth, and that instinct was enough to avoid even the word. To think, she was only feet away from the child of a walker...

Yet a glance was enough to prove that whatever his mother, Growl was no walker. His feet were hooved, not clawed, and he wore no pelt; he might look a trifle unusual, but it was himself, without the skin of another playing any role in that look.

To think, someone had mated with a walker, and someone had survived childhood in the care of a walker. Amazing. This stallion truly owed the spirits his gratitude for his survival, regardless of what his early circumstances had been.

Oddly enough, she felt a kinship with him; he had a monster for a mother, and she, if she didn't have anything to object to in her parentage, certainly had her own familial skeletons to deal with. Though oddly enough, she felt no reticence on that subject, not now. "I don't mind discussing that, since it's relatively public knowledge to anyone who sees any of us. My mother is a pureblood Kalona, but my father is half wind. You'd never know that to look at him," she added with a laugh; it was a well-known fact that Antony was huge in size, a case of hybrids being larger than their sources gone wild. "He's very large," she added by way of explanation, "And he has the Kalona wings and fangs. But he has a hairy tail, and no horns, and regular hooves. He also eats grass, fangs or no fangs. So my family is mostly Kalona, but my siblings and I are a quarter wind. I'm the only one who can actually pass as a full Kalona, though I'm not the only one who eats meat."

Lessia paused, cocking her head to one side as she finished her little speech. It seemed like there was something she was missing...oh yes. "I don't think I ever introduced actually introduced myself, did I? I'm Lessia."

So much for being subtle, Lessia realized with a sheepish grin. It had been too much for her to expect such a peculiar display to go unnoticed, no matter how introspective Growl might have been at the time. It had been a while since she'd been laughed at, but there was no malice in Growl's laughter. It was certainly rough laughter, but it wasn't unpleasant, for all that. Rather like Growl himself, she was beginning to suspect; rough around the edges, but pleasant enough underneath.

"Well, I can see where Laz was coming from. That's quite a growl you have there, Growl, and that's something, coming from me." She certainly heard her fair share over the years, in terms of both animal and Soquili, and this was a new one. Just like that smile of his; perhaps it was the odd markings on his lips that made it look so haphazard, but the effect was very unusual. Not that she could talk much; her own smiles were accented by fangs.

At his question about her father, she cocked her head to the side, considering. Growl was very large, yes, but Antony had always been larger than life in her eyes. He also had the massive Kalona wings, which added to the impression of size. "I think he's probably comparable in size to you, maybe even a bit taller. I'd have to stand you side by side to be sure," she added with a smile. That was a funny image, made even funnier by her mental picture of her father's face if she asked him: 'Hi Daddy, I met this stallion randomly off in the woods, we had a brief chat and then I thought I'd bring him home to see how you two compared in height.'

Too funny.

Though she was brought back from those entertaining images by his question, to which she gave a quick shake of her head. "Not far at all, though it's more of a large spring than a stream. It's just a few paces back past these trees; I picked this place for the proximity, back when I couldn't walk well." This last was stated in a very matter of fact voice; there was no sense trying to hide what any glance could plainly see. That was a downside of white hide; every little scar stood out darkly, and several of her scars were anything but little. "It's not a problem now, but I've gotten attached."