10-18-2009, 12:07 AM
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Of all the places there were to go in the world, something had told Laurel where exactly his son had gone to. There were truly only a few places he could have gone and most of those Laurel doubted for whatever reason. New Haven was out of the question in his mind, as were some of the other, smaller places they had quietly passed through. The one place that had always stuck out in Laurel’s mind was the little region tucked away on Nova Scotia. He had never known the name of the region and was quite convinced that it didn’t have a name. It wasn’t a valley, wasn’t stretched out and over some mountain range with a name… it was just there. And for the most part, he and Nikita both had always described it as being an innocuous sort of place. Excluding of course, the illness that had gone around; something that he supposedly had been one of the things to drive a firm wedge between those in Esper Hollow.
So it had been strange to come back, to pass through where a year ago he had roamed freely with however many others had come to settle there, and venture north towards the one place where he knew coyotes had settled and made a name for themselves: Inferni. He couldn’t quite remember the last time it was that he had come to see those who lived there, though obviously it had been over a year ago. He vaguely remembered certain members who had lived there, like Anselm and Corona, and distantly, Gabriel. But other than that, he had never gotten very acquainted with anyone else from there, so it was strange to be coming up on their well-marked doorstep for a purpose entirely other than joining them.
Which of course, the thought had crossed his mind a few times. But for Nikita’s sake, he knew he wouldn’t, even if their relationship was ambiguous at best; he wasn’t exactly sure what to refer to them as. But the fact that there were children — or in this case, a child — between them gave him an unspoken obligation to stick with her. He already had enough regret stashed away for a rainy day for letting her go on her own in the first place. His olive eyes scanned the pike-lined border, picking out the familiarity of this particular stretch simply because it had been the one he had come to stand at a year ago. It was the same stretch where Anselm had found him, to the best of his recollection.
A sigh left his leathery lips parted, and he deliberated for a few moments more.
And then finally, he summoned his youngest son to him with a clipped howl.