Perhaps, he realized, it wasn't just Geneva who didn't need him anymore. When had he ever been worthy of a leader rank, of dominance over so many souls younger than he? Why had a sinner like Jefferson earned himself a place above them, and how was he worthy of staying there? The cyclops' tattered ears twitched; he had been more than absent among them for the past few months, instead straying away with his own thoughts for company, and not once had he complained. Jefferson had forgotten he had once been a loner, content with roaming on his own. He'd once considered taking advantage of Iskata and her silly pack, filling his stomach and feigning 'membership' long enough to gain his strength back before leaving again. He hadn't gone then, however, and he couldn't bring himself to go now. What was it that so desperately called him back each time he left?
Movement behind him stirred his ears to attention; the beast's instincts flared suddenly, as if his life as a pack member and leader had never happened, and the three-legged creature whirled around in one fell movement. A snarl rose from his throat, his green eye glowed, his jowls parted and bared—and each choked to peace when his eye fell upon a child, shocked and frozen, just feet away. Jefferson straightened quickly, but thinned his eye—whose pup is this?
Geneva's familiar voice rung out before he could consider further. The cyclops squared his shoulders, his scars grimacing as he watched her approach, life and spirit in her step that he hadn't seen in so long. His ears flicked back, his brows furrowed. And why was she so happy? It wasn't like they had seen each other for more than a few seconds in recent weeks. He cast another short glance at the child, suddenly hating it for its presence alongside the Whilom.
He glared at her one last time, thinned his eye, and began to stalk off without a word.
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