The winds of change

Matteo Trovato · 09-19-2011, 08:55 AM

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Aha! Teo still seems the same in some ways, but just wait. He's not the happy gay boy anymore. ;D

Word Count → 000

The Trovato bloodline was pure and precise in every sense of the word. So of course, when their heir, a young coyote woman named Carissa, gave birth to twin boys, both of them half dog... well, it was up to them to prove to the Italian world that blood had nothing to do with it. It was all in the family name. It was all in the upbringing.

Giuseppe and Matteo had travelled to America on their own accord upon eaching a year, to expand the family to another section of the world. The two brothers had grown up under a strict upbringing and a few times, the ever-jealous older brother, Giu, had tried to belittle and abuse his albino twin, Teo.

Abusing a Trovato was always a terrible idea.

Summer had come and gone and the albino brother had decided to move south, to escape the annoyance that was his jealous sibling. The two were constantly getting into childish fights. Giuseppe was a distraction and nothing more, so Matteo left him to take hold of the west. He himself would claim the East. That way they'd still be doing as their mother and father had asked; spreading the Trovato Mafia across the globe.

Matteo was in his optime form, mounted on the back of his black arabian gelding, a gift from his father. The pair were riding along a stretch of lake, enjoying the peace and quiet and mulling over the harsh winter months ahead. I'll have to find a place to settle for the winter. Halifax, maybe?

His thoughts were interrupted when the black horse suddenly spooked, whickering in protest, refusing to take another step. Matteo cursed under his breath and kicked at the horse's ribs to make it go but it refused. He climbed off to check the problem and when he looked down, he saw it. A little white pup curled up, nearly asleep and looking extremely underfed and tired. Another curse in Italian was given but at least the young man knelt down to investigate.

He placed a proding hand on the pup's shoulder, weary of being bitten. Hey, He voiced in a thick Italian accent, Wake up, kid. You can't sleep here. This isn't a bed. His voice was even and in good control, as usual. He hated kids, but at least he could be civil about it. They were yappy, annoying little things but they were also essential. Whoever had lost this pretty white girl was a fool for even trying. Had she not been a wolf, Matteo would've praised her for the white pelt she sported; a sign of purity. Too bad purity just didn't happen in wolves.

Image courtesy of Dirk-Jan Kraan@Flickr; coding by the Mentors

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