Bad blood

Levent Kartal · 04-08-2012, 09:24 PM

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Eyes—plainly blood-red even at this distance—regarded him and his feline companion momentarily before the black wolf spoke. The Turkish response caught him off guard, and Levent cocked a brow. “Türkçe konuşabilir?” He shook his head slightly, deciding that it was safe enough to step forward. It had been a long time since he’d heard his mother tongue, as generally only he spoke it—especially in these North American lands. He’d heard smatterings of other languages, French and Spanish and Russian, but his own remained rare.

The stranger went back to butchering the deer calmly, casually questioning if he was hungry. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to save some meat for himself, the brown-furred man nodded and stepped closer. He wondered if he could do something in return for this fellow, but he wasn’t one to offer favors if no one asked. As much as he believed in equal and fair trade, he was still an opportunist, and the soft hearts of strangers were too glad to offer him and his kitty a meal.

Something about this man—his scars, the way he carried himself—told Levent that he wasn’t one of those soft-hearted fools, however. He settled down on his haunches, arms on his knees as he watched closely, the cat dropping down to crouch behind him.

He spoke casually now, in English. “So where’d you learn to speak the language? You don’t come from overseas too, do you, kırmızı gözleri?”

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