393
The tawny-furred youth had been completely spared the knowledge of his family, though he did not wish for it to be this way; the tawny-furred youth had never been afraid to know anything. There was nothing in knowledge that was frightening; understanding made everything less scary. The tawny-furred coyote peered at the black-furred man, his jade-hued eyes never leaving the man's snow-dusted face. There were pale markings all over him, tiny swirls and squiggles that would have seemed to have no meaning to anyone, but Harlowe did not think Larkspur was the type to do things without meaning, without symbolism—those markings stood for something, the tawny-furred man was sure. But the idea of family was far more interesting to him, and he looked up hopefully as the man spoke again, the twanging drawl from his mouth simple and revealing nothing more than what Harlowe already knew. A normal puppy might have been frustrated at this continuation of cryptic words, but not Harlowe—he was a patient hunter of knowledge, and when it came to seeking it out he could wait days and days, starving it out slowly. “Who did they belong to first?” he asked quietly, wanting to know where he had gotten these things. Of his siblings he might be the only one—some of them had puppyish baby blues, still.
His mother's uncle? The young man's face contorted and he tried to figure that one out, trying to trace the man's relationship to himself... there were no words in Harlowe's vocabulary for this relationship. “Mother's uncle. Does that... are you also my uncle, then?” he asked, straining to put into words that which he was totally unaware. At some point maybe he would pick up a book on families or genealogy—maybe someday he'd know what to properly call Larkspur. Not that it mattered—the very same blood flowed in both of their veins, regardless of which way they chose to label it. There was no changing that. “Are the rest of them nearby?” he asked, eager—he was not so silly as to think they were here; Larkspur had already confirmed that they were not. They had been gone a long time, according to Larkspur—but where were they? He hoped they were not already in the ground; that would make it impossible for him to learn from them.
.harlowe-scared-text {padding:0px 25px;}
.harlowe-scared p {padding:5px 0px; text-indent:25px; margin:0px;}
.harlowe-scared b {color:#FFF161; font-weight:bold;}
.harlowe-scared {width:420px; margin:0 auto; background-color:#000000; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/rp/harlowe/harlowe_scared.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding:270px 0px 10px 0px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#DF9F21; word-spacing:.2px; line-height:14px; letter-spacing:.1px; text-align:justify; border:1px solid #000000;}
</style>
[/html]