Rancid, like rotten eggs, and heavy like fog. What was that smell? Why was it everywhere? Like a gnat it hovered nearby incessantly, though in place of a dull drone was a noxious, permeating odor. It seeped into her clothing and stained it. Lupa hated coming to the Cathedral because of the smell, she hated other Hunters because of the smell. She hated herself because of the smell. No amount of baths removed it, and the time she'd spend away was never long enough for it to completely disappear. If others noticed it too they made no comment of it, and many - Murans for the most part, looked upon her as though she were insane, imagining the scent completely. 

It was [i]there[/i], she was certain of it. Canis possessed keen senses of smell and could pick up faint traces, not unlike bloodhounds. Unlike bloodhounds though they took offense to being ordered to track for someone, like they were nothing more than an animal, a tool. She'd strung up the last jerk who tried barking orders at her, only cutting him down when he looked like he might pass out.

"Heh... Strung up... That's a pun." Who was she talking to? The only other person in the Cathedral, at least among the pews, was a fat, oily-looking priest who was fast asleep. Curious, she leaned across her seat and sniffed, face crumpling and fanning at the air. Not only did he reek of... Whatever that smell was, but he hadn't bathed in a while either. Doubly disgusting.

Enough trying to make herself sick. She'd come here on orders to receive a new mission; that had been half an hour ago. Clearly people were busy, busy enough they couldn't be bothered tell her to come back later. Standing and stretching with a groan, Lupa scratched one of her ears, meandering through incoming parishioners towards the doors. She paid them no mind, and they did their best to avoid her in turn. Shorter than most coming in, their avoidance likely had more to do with the gleaming metal claws hung from her waist, clattering gently against her leather greaves.  

There were other places to be, and with or without assignment, she'd find work; she'd find herself at the business end of Goodwitch's riding crop for leaving prematurely too, but she'd worry about that when it came. There was never a shortage of work for Hunters, not when Grimm were constantly attacking settlements. They never took vacations, never slept, and didn't need to eat. Their sole purpose in life was to make their existence - their being literally [i]everyone else's[/i] lives a living hell. It worked, making the Grimm the sole thing Lupa hated more than the White Fang. That wasn't easy to accomplish. 

What [i]was[/i] easy to accomplish was to stowaway on a carriage. Carriages came and went with such frequency that most were never inspected, even by those driving it. Lupa picked her mark, an elderly couple with a small covered vessel. Ducking between the crowds and slipping beneath the cover, she moved aside a few boxes before making a bed for herself. While not the most comfortable of beds, wooden carts made traveling far easier; horses didn't hurt either. She could nap while these 'generous' souls did all the work and jump off whenever she found something interesting. 

Feeling the cart pull with a start, Lupa smiled and closed her eyes, folding her hands behind her head. "Thanks for the ride..." she muttered softly. Next stop....  Wherever these people were going. Hopefully it was somewhere fun, and less smelly.