Damn cold, the Cajun cursed in his mind, flipping up the collar on his long coat. The Southern man hated how bitter it was compared to where he had come, and the thought that it was going to get even colder, well, he disliked thinking of that thought. Rémy Lebeau hoped that he’d find this Inferni soon, or even if it exists; The wolf that told him of the coyote clan seemed to be a few cards short of a deck, but the man seemed to be the only reliable source at that current place and time. Maybe if he settled here and lay low for a while, the trail and weather would get too cold for the others to follow. After all, that’s what he was good at.
A sudden scent on the wayward breeze alerted the man that the clan was near. It was like what the stranger in Freetown described it as, Rémy decided, as well as the location; it was somewhat near a bay, like the wolf had told. After quickening his past, trench coat flapping noisily from walking against the wind, it was not before long that he found empty eyes keeping sentry along the border. The sight wasn’t the worst he had saw in his life time, but they were interesting enough for him to take a long glance at. Seems as if they don’t like visitors, he mused with a toothy grin.
Then, wasting no time, he let out a loud howl deep from his throat, low-pitched like a dog’s, but there was some coyote noise somewhere in the holler for attention.
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