some words to aid in the decay

[Laruku Tears]

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He noted her irritation at his comparison, but he couldn't help but think it the more she spoke. They seemed very much alike in their mannerisms, the way they spoke, their indignation, their recollections of the past he had such a hard time remembering. Had he read from his book to the entire pack? Vague images and words floated around in the depthless black space in his skull, and he didn't press any of them. Maybe he had, maybe he hadn't. The original book was gone and he didn't really trust his memory anymore anyway. Though he had some sort of simple pride in the history he'd retained, whatever pack meeting DaVinci remembered was apparently not important enough for Laruku to remember as well.



I've got nothing else to do, he answered simply. And it was true. Without duties or obligations now, the scarred hybrid had very little to occupy his time with. Everyone else was off building packs of their own; it almost seemed like the leadership that he had cast off had been picked up by half a dozen other people. Conri and Naniko had their own pack. Cercelee as well. Iskata was trying. And instead of joining any of them, Laruku spent his time sleeping and lying around in the sun, half-dreaming, half-remembering, half-not-really-doing-or-thinking anything at all. He didn't mind, but rewriting something that would otherwise be lost forever didn't seem like a bad alternative, even though he wasn't sure that saving such history was really worth it in the end.

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