07-06-2008, 10:13 PM
This is a fun way of having a lesson! (461)[html]
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He wondered why he felt so much resentment towards his father. He knew that Pilot was the leader of another pack and he had accepted the fact that his was Apollo’s true father, but still the white pup felt distant. Pilot had come to visit Sirius and Apollo several times after he had discovered they were living in Twilight Vale. He would talk with his father about whatever he decided to bring up, but he still felt a distance between them. He didn’t feel any real bond with him, besides the fact that Pilot’s blood ran through his veins.
He had had several replacement parents – Deuce, Lucifer, Naniko, Conri – but he still felt as if he was alone. He saw them all as familiar faces, pack members, friends, perhaps, but not a true family. He had this idea in his head that he was a loner. Sirius didn’t count. Now that the youth had gotten a bit older, he no longer followed Sirius around cowering behind his legs. He was the bigger of the two, but had always been more reserved. Now that he had made up his mind that he was a loner, he had decided that he would need to take responsibility for himself. Even if he was still only a small child.
He wandered over to the illustrations and looked down into the dirt. She had sketched out several drawings – some which he identified instantly in his head. "Un orso," he spoke as his mismatched eyes started with the bear. She had done a rather good job drawing that one. He moved his gaze to a new drawing. "Un uccello." He didn’t know the word for raven, and he wouldn’t have known that that was what it was either way. He was satisfied that he had gotten that correct and moved on to the next one. "Un albero." He didn’t know what the word for river was, though. Instead he told her, "Acqua."
The next illustrations were a bit more challenging. The words were more complicated and the depictions weren’t as simple to identify. Next was a drawing of the coast. He sat and looked at it for a while, an eyebrow rising in concentration. He finally decided on a phrase, "Il puntello," to describe it. "La nostra casa," he said with a grin. "Colline," he said for the mountain, but pronounced the word wrong. He knew that it was a picture of a mountain, but wasn’t sure how to say it.
He reclined to his haunches and stared at the last one with his mismatched gaze. It looked like waves – rippled lines to demonstrate the wind. He wondered out loud, "Acqua o aria?" Then he decided that it was wind and not waves. "Aria," he said affirmatively.