never discovered

[Hybrid Holocaust]

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Oh, my, my, you're oh so sly. ___ Math analogies o__o Let's leave unsaid what's left unspoken. ___ He would have to begin planning a time to take this child out, it seemed, to find a wolf. Although all these questions could easily be answered, it was obvious that Hybrid would prefer not to. Yes, he would entertain the child with tales of dread and disgust, but that could only stretch so far. Hybrid was not as good with words as he would like, for he had always made up for it with his teeth and claws. The international form of communication: bloodshed. A snarl or slash of the claw could do much more than a word or a threat. A glare was sufficient, for it was not simply a look, but a warning, and so much more. Where Andrezej would use words to convey his anger and loathing for wolves, Hybrid used his eyes, his teeth, his vicious smile. Those who knew him well enough understood that a smile was never an expression of happiness, of joy: it was reserved for making a mockery of another or light amusement, but never delight. Hybrid was such a creature that could not experience love or joy to begin with, so it would seem obvious that he would replace such emotions with others. ___ The child asked a question again, and Hybrid, the sinusoidal creature he was, would always drag it down to answer. His replies, though sometimes disheartening or depressing, were what he thought, what he knew. Andre's questions were the highest point, the excitement, the curiosity. "They smell like predators, but bigger than coyotes. They don't have the swift smell of a coyote, but rather, the large, burly, bothersome stench of a wolf. Once you smell it, you'll know it, and you may have already. But my boy, describing a scent is like describing how you see - you just do. It's something you will discover on your own." There was no answer to this question, and unlike the previous ones, he tried to make it clearer, make it more comprehensive. It was not easy for him, for all he wanted to do was whisk the child away to the borders of a pack and point the smell out, telling him it was this scent he should hate. In time, perhaps he would, or perhaps Andre would see on his own. In time, Andre would know what it was to attack, what it was to hurt. And he would know by the scent who was friend and foe.

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