Devouria

Devouria knows strength.

It takes a lot of strength to be the strongest of the Hard Bloodletters. It is a position she holds with Slaughter, and it is a position that holds a lot of responsibilities.

Together, she and Slaughter are in charge of testing and training new Hard Bloodletters, a job that she takes far more seriously than Slaughter does. She is the toughest, the most tenacious, the one that everyone fears training with.

But she is far better at judging the true potential of someone than Slaughter. One spar with her, and she knows if her opponent will make it. It was she who first sparred with Adrika, and she who recognised the strength festering in her bones.

It was also Devouria who found and saved her mate from death.



The First Nest



"No," Devouria said sharply. "My hatchlings are healthy. They have a power around them. They will not be exalted."

"Demona -" her mate began, but Devouria cut him off with a snap of her teeth.

"I will deal with Demona. She is a fool if she thinks to cast aside healthy Hard Bloodletters. She needs us."

"We need her," Muerdar said quietly.

Devouria hissed, her tail lashing against her legs. "We need the rituals. We need the blood. But she hasn't been creating any lately, and I'm sure we all know why."

Muerdar stared at her, lilac eyes assessing, and then stepped aside. "I will come."

"You don't have to, Muerdar. I know you dislike the Scribes."

There was a shiver as all Muerdar's scales flared and then settled. "I will come," her mate repeated firmly.



The Second Nest





Devouria looked up sharply at the sounds of footsteps, her back left eye flickering over to her nest. They would hatch soon, she could feel it, but with each passing minute she grew more and more impatient.

Muerdar was out, working with a newer group of Bloodletters, learning the hunt. Devouria wished she was there with him, dissatisfaction at the situation coiling like a noose around her throat.

Because Demona's decree still stood, firm as the rock around Devouria. Nothing Devouria had said had had any effect on the Ridgeback's decision, and when the two Scattered Bloodletters had finally stepped forward, as if to escort her out, Devouria had done something she wasn't sure she shouldn't regret - she'd spat an oath of blood.

Oaths of blood were sacred, special things. It was said that these oaths welled up from within,
sitting in ones soul until it was ripe and ready to burst. Then, the desire to speak it would be impossible to ignore. Devouria had never felt the need to speak one herself.

Until the day Demona had smiled coolly down at her as Devouria demanded an explanation, a simple reason.

"Not another hatchling I will exalt under this ridiculous decree," Devouria had spat, her voice a snarl that rumbled through her entire body. "Unless they are sick, or wrong, I will not exalt them."

The look of shock on every face in the room had been priceless. Devouria had spun from the room and left before the other Bloodletters could pick their jaws from the floor.

Demona had not said anything to her since. But the oath echoed, made the air around Devouria thick and viscous. And now that her nest was about to hatch, Devouria felt the weight of the oath all the more.

A familiar face, a face she knew she disagreed with too much of the time to ever consider it friendly, peered into her part of the lair. She couldn't see the male Wildclaw's eyes beneath the mask he wore, but she didn't need to. She knew what he needed - what his mate needed.

"Come," he said, the simple word confirming everything she had expected and making the oath echo.

As she glanced towards her own eggs, thinking of her own hatchlings, she wondered how she would manage to get 5 Bloodletter hatchlings out into the world without the world noticing.