some feathers i stole from the birds
#11
Works for me. Smile
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“Call me a bit of a cynic, but I don't think we're going to see peace in our lifetime,” he said, tucking a leg underneath himself to stand. “Wolves and coyotes have fought each other and fought amongst themselves for hundreds and hundreds of years. It's just apart of who we are, but now we're capable of decided whether or not we roll with the punches or throw them.” By now he felt like he had the sure enough footing to say his mind, even though when it all boiled down to it he never really cared what side he was on. Laurel avoided fighting, even if he was far from a pacifist. Just like everyone else, he was capable of having a burning, seething rage that could rise up from the bowels of Hell. “I should probably start heading back, but if you're ever just west of Halifax, you should look me up. Maybe we could catch a drink or two,” he offered, not feeling the desire to spend the night so far away from what he was most familiar with any more.

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