Shadows of the Past

Barrett · 07-08-2011, 07:03 PM

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Business had been slow, but Barrett couldn't find it in him to go back to Crimson Dreams. Logic told him he would have heard about it already if his forbidden liaison had been discovered, but emotion (specifically paranoia) bade him to keep his head down, to lie low. Shock—or maybe denial—had allowed him to keep a straight face around the bear of a Lictor outright, but now that the reality of the situation had sunk in, he worried he'd lose his cool on the off chance he ran into Ghita's husband.

He'd have to keep to Halifax awhile longer while he collected himself. He frittered away the hours and days tending to his plants, practising guitar, and trying to smoke the troubles out of his mind, not unlike a hunter smoking a rabbit out of its hole. After he split ways with Pixie, he had only seen one other canine all week: a random hybrid, who—upon realising the boy's propensity for glowing things—lead him to a wealth of strange mushrooms growing in the forests near the old territory of freshly disbanded Phoenix Valley. The hybrid, a self-proclaimed botanist who went by the name of Drake, also introduced him to a number of flower and plant species meant to attract fireflies and butterflies.

Barrett had spent several days smearing the mushroom caps on some fallen logs against the tree line to disperse their spores, as well as transplanting black-eyed susans, New England asters, coneflowers, verbenas, zinnias, and butterfly weeds found growing wild or left behind in human suburbia. The going rate for the botanist's time and identification skills had been steep, but the boy found the transaction to be worthwhile. It gave him something to do—even after the plants were situated, they needed extra water and attention—and it added more colour to his property, through both the flowers themselves and the visitors they attracted.

Drake departed as suddenly as he had come, and the youth found himself growing restless over the following days despite all the work to be done. As night fell, he stared solemnly at the faint flashes of his Dyakia and the intermittent glow of the fireflies; it was peaceful and quiet, but he felt the need to move. After securing his belongings in the garage and the key about his neck, he found himself assuming his four-legged form, which always felt more sure-footed in the dead of night. He roamed without aim or direction through the eerie streets, at least until a familiar scent reached up his nose to tickle his brain. Barrett began to track it unconsciously.

Only when he was very near the Jindo hybrid did he become aware of exactly who he was trailing, and by then she had disappeared into the building. He wavered uncertainly outside; even after all this time, he could still faintly scent the remnants of smoke and ash. The yearling did not trust the stability of these buildings. A high pitched whine rose in his throat and he stood at the threshold, barking once inquisitively and listening for some response.

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