Perfumed Nights

Aurielle turned to him as he stepped into the light provided by the booth and spoke. He nodded gravely in return at her own words. "Kind of you to arrange for the meal," he said. "I am certain it will not go unappreciated." Otherwise, he politely remained quite while she spoke to the trader, only to stiffen slightly when she directed quiet words his way. Despite the sudden tension that gathered in a dark cloud around him, his expression remained calm and neutral, not changing. He fell into step beside her obligingly and was quiet for a long moment, watching the darkness in front of them. "Yes," he finally answered softly. "It seems that the Armada wished to..." he paused a moment before continuing, his voice faintly wry, "frighten us into never taking a contract against them." A beat of quiet, and in a low, gravelly tone he growled, "They invaded our home and sent children against us. What were we to do, roll over and show our bellies? Let them take what they wanted without punishment, while my brother lies ill and his pups were vulnerable?" With an effort of will, he smoothed the snarl from his muzzle and dampened the flames in his eyes, swallowing down the anger though he felt he'd choke on it. He hadn't intended to say what he had, but the words had been there, behind his teeth since the raid, waiting to tumble free. His brooding that night had only served to bring them bubbling closer, and Aurielle was only a convenient set of ears. But, she was a set of ears attached to the alpha of a potential enemy, and he needed to pull back. He made himself shrug, and forced his voice back to a cool, quiet level. "We were outmatched this time. It was an impossible fight."