wc283
escape is never the safest path
Who had he lost? No one. There had never been anyone
to lose in the first place, let along regret losing months or years later. A long paused spanned between them as the question was put aside rather hastily; hadn't Pendzez heard a word he'd said? The focus here was not on him, it was on the white-furred yearling. For a moment he was annoyed, but the feeling passed. Pendzez was just a kid, still--he didn't know what Jefferson was talking about. It probably mattered very little to him to be lectured and the like, and since Jefferson wasn't pleased with lecturing, he laid his judgments and efforts to rest for the time being. Pendzez didn't need his help, evidently.
"Nobody," he replied sternly, green eye glowing as it grimly affixed on the white wolf. "I never had anybody but myself. These scars are all self-inflicted." No, not that he had purposely hurt himself, but more that he had never listened to his conscience and gotten himself out of the way of trouble. For years, Jefferson had set himself up for pain and misery, and not once did he purposely dodge out of it. He stood right in the middle of it. He regretted it. His memories were of no use, but creating memories was different. Jefferson still had a chance to end up somehow... happy. Whether or not he decided to grasp that was, inevitably, another story."You're all alone now, other than this pack," he grumbled, straightening his back as he pushed back against the trunk of the tree. Suddenly, his mood was so foul. "Don't end up and old gimp like me with no one to remember. Make that your passion, kid."
