07-08-2010, 10:57 PM
Sorry this is late! D:
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The explanation that Larkspur offered was sound in King's mind—though he probably wouldn't notice any parallels with how this man treated Harlowe or how his own father treated himself until later, if at all. It was all about how other things and other creatures could be useful to someone. If something was better off dead for him—such as any food—it would be so. If something was useful alive more than it could be dead, it was used—such as Larkspur's horse, or (though he didn't know of it) King himself, at the moment. The youth's blue eyes were fixated on the face of the mare, wondering if she knew how close she could've been to being dinner. Maybe she knew that, and maybe that's why she did what Larkspur said. Hm.
After a long, silent moment, King nodded. The puppy was not very good at conversation; he had not exactly been very well-socialized with other kids and adults. But as he switched his blue gaze over to the scarred Larkspur, he found a childish part of him craving information that he might only get from this man—a supposed friend of his father's. King rarely gave into such impulses, as he hated to appear immature (regardless of if he was or not), but before he knew it the words had slipped from his lips, "Do you know where my dad went?" There was a boyish timbre to his voice that rarely existed there, and it made him somewhat ashamed. But his father was gone and everyone seemed a little dodgy when he asked. He just got this feeling that Larkspur would tell him the truth.