Word Count :: 366 YOU SUCK AND I HATE YOU. 
He didn't know much about Dahlia de Mai—his mother didn't have very much to say about them, and neither did anybody else, it seemed. Maybe someone had told him and he'd forgotten, but he didn't think that was possible. He remembered pretty much everything after he could open his eyes and listen from his ears, and a little before that, too. Those were the murkiest memories in his head, though—but the instant Harlowe could see, he began absorbing. Every minute detail of the world seeped into his mind, and there they remained. His head released nothing, it seemed. He could recall the weather and the wind direction for a particular event if he really wanted to. The youth didn't realize how remarkable this was, of course—he had never discussed his sharp memory with anyone, and so he assumed everyone else remembered as he did.
The tawny-furred youth didn't have to wait too long for someone to notice him, though—he hadn't been fidgeting and prancing ten minutes before another canine happened along him. Harlowe's olive-colored eyes blinked as he watched the other puppy approach, surprised to see someone younger than him here to greet him. There were no smiles from either, but as the younger canine showed signs of dominance, something happened in Harlowe—almost mechanically his ears folded back and his tail tucked, a swift and powerful instinct he could not have fought if he tried. As it were, it had completely surprised him, and it showed on his chocolate-masked face for a moment. The Dahlian youth asked a question, and Harlowe's muzzle lifted slightly. It hadn't been hard to talk to Delwyn, who appeared more or less this pup's age—why wasn't the speech automatic here?
His voice couldn't fail him now—he needed to find Larkspur again. Steeling himself once more, the pup drew in a breath once more, and attempted to speak again—thankfully, this time the words came far more easily. “I'm looking for Larkspur D'Angelo,” he said, his own voice meek and soft. There wasn't very much intimidating about Harlowe. “I'm Harlowe D'Angelo,” he added after a moment, remembering it was polite to introduce himself as well.
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