The night's ride had been long. Vox's hooves pounding against the earth as the two galloped over the terra, Mars comfortably riding on the back of his bridled steed. The mustang ran hard tonight, with almost an urgency. Mars was trying to find the biggest city around the place in all reality. He'd heard from his father that there was a city not too far Northeast of the Cdm packlands. The "pirate" had been on a mission to find some fabric, and some teeth, or spikes that he could use for his project that he would be working on for a costume of his that he was planning on putting together. He more than likely would succeed between both himself and Bartholomew since they both shared some of the same fashion sense, and when they disagreed on something, they would just have to deal with half of it a certain way and half of it another. Either way, Mars had gotten out of the house, on horseback and headed to this alleged "city" that his father spoke to him briefly about. Mars had his back pack on his back, and a few bags on the sides of his stallion, which he had for quite some time now, probably since he found them with Kiev when they were going through a little town. Where the fuck was that retarded bastard anyways? He shouldn't have taken the boy this long to get here...Then again, this was Kiev we were talking about. The boy probably got distracted talking to a damn butterfly or something. A pang of worry would worm it's way into the back of his mind though. It always did. Just because the kid was family and Mars was probably supposed to babysit the kid. Mars didn't know.
With the sound of clicking under the feet of the equine, Mars had taken the reigns and pulled back lightly to signal the horse to start slowing down. The mustang would slow down gradually until it came to a brisk trot, in which they stayed at that pace until Mars would direct the horse to do something else. The clip-clopping against the broken cement of the deserted city echoed in the night as the horse and rider strolled through the devoid city. Mars kept his guard up, he knew better. There was always something lurking in the dark, and he would be prepared. Paranoid was he? Probably, but he had a reason to be. He had been attacked in the middle of the night plenty of times for him to be cautious of everything. Steel eyes would look from building to building, corner to corner, alley to alley to avoid danger. When in danger though, he was not one to scream out, no, he was the quiet man. He and Bartholomew were two different people. Bartholomew couldn't take the beatings. Twisted? Sick? I'd like to think so.
The clothed wolf-dog rode his stallion through the city still. Hunting for supplies. One night of the hunter. Hunting alone in the night. Now little kiddies, whatever you do, don't be afraid of the dark..
Mars Speaks Bartholomew speaks
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