[M] you can't hide.

Harlowe D'Angelo · 10-21-2010, 01:03 AM

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WARNING This thread contains: graphic sexual content, graphic violence, & extremely offensive material starting with the 3rd post. Reader discretion is advised.

derp! Arachnea's Revenge. ;O (369)

For the first time, Harlowe felt discomfort within his pack. It was not due to the leadership or his packmates, or even the very nature of the pack itself. He was content in Dahlia de Mai, and he was happy to be with his uncle, but he was fearful of the man, as well. This fear had only increased exponentially since he had failed this second largest test, and the creamy-furred youth did not yet wish to face the inevitable retribution for such failures. So he had been spending time away from the pack lately, keeping to the ring of neutral territories surrounding the land. The youth focused on familiarizing himself with these territories; his mind was razor-sharp and capable of remembering vast amounts of information. Harlowe saw no reason why this vivid memory should impede him in a quest for learning outside of books.

However, the pale-furred youth found it was far more difficult to absorb information in the real world than it was through books. There were few landmarks by which he could remember things; trees blended all together and everything looked exactly the same. It had not yet occurred to Harlowe to use more senses than just his eyes to navigate the world; he was still reliant on his vision to make his way to the next place. This might have explained his inclination to become lost, should he have chosen to stray further than the immediate of Dahlia de Mai. The chocolate-tipped youth had little desire to lose himself today, however, and so he remained relatively close to Dahlia de Mai, haunting the strip of land between his homeland and the coyote clan. There was a vague desire to see the kind, sweet thing from the other day again—Clover's scent had long faded, however, and Harlowe found himself alone, meandering through the quiet evening.

The thoughts in his head were occupied primarily by his attempts to navigate, though a sinister undertone of guilt, questions, and more guilt plagued him. The cream-furred youth could not stifle this quiet flow of thoughts from a darker part of his brain, and so he tried in vain to distract himself by immersing his attentions in the living world.

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