He shouldn't have been there. He should've been home, resting from his mix up with Vesper. He should've been in AniWaya, where he belonged. But when did Matteo ever stay out of trouble? He'd gotten a taste of freedom after leaving Anathema and that was it. Loyalty just didn't stay put in the albino's mind. He did what he wanted, when he wanted and half the time, he didn't even realize he was doing anything wrong.
Maybe he should've listened when Ahi told him to go home, to stay home, to rest and focus on his job as Kunikoti. Maybe he should've heeded her warnings.
But no. Instead, he found himself crouched down in the trees just a few yards from Anathema's borders. The dreaded place. Up above, a few yards ahead, he could hear the babble of crows. They knew he was there, but he wasn't close enough to cause any alarm. He'd been listening to them for over an hour now, trying to pin point a break in their formation, a weak spot, to penetrate the packlands and make a daring attempt to scout out more information on what the cave-dwelling wolves had been up to since his departure.
Vaguely, he could make out shadows in the trees. Crows. So many of the little bastards. Too many to count. How could they even stand to be near them so much? Bastard creatures were loud, ugly and noisy. He'd never hated any animals before but the sight of a crow made his stomach twist and bend. Alaki.
With a dark rumble, he skirted around the edges of the territory, closing in a little more and trying his best to stay undercover. He'd left his horse, Jericho, and his clothes a mile back, hidden away in a thicket. Jericho knew to run and kick if ever someone tried to ride her other than Teo, and that knowledge wasn't lost on the albino rider. He knew his horse was safe.
He just needed a few more minutes. More babbling from above. Damn birds, always in the way. If only Camilla were there... she'd be able to shoot each out of them out of the sky before any of them had the chance to sound an alarm. If only he'd learned to use a bow and arrows. If only he'd decided to stay home that day.
A sharp pain in his side told him he needed to rest, the bruise still fresh under his fur. With a pant and a grimace, he scooted back into the cover of the brush, frost bitten as it was, to check his injuries. The bruise was healing quickly, but it was also the most painful of his wounds, a dark colored splotch across his left side, covering almost the entirety of his ribcage there. Nasty thing. Too focused on his injuries, the babbling of the crows, he'd never even notice if someone had spotted him or not. The bruise... stupid bruise, go away!
