It had not occurred to Levent until after he’d crossed over the border that he had his work cut out for him. While he could feign knowledge about Nova Scotia and the groups that made it home, the truth was that he’d never been in a real pack before. All they’d had in Eurasia were scruffy gangs and mafias, and the only packs were never called that; he’d never been part of them anyway. So, after joining Cercatori d’Arte, the first order of business was figure out what the hell to do.
At times like this, he defaulted to sitting aside and brooding with Wilson, but he didn’t want the others’ first impression of him to be that. Wearing a smile at all times just in case he was spotted, he made his way through the territory, stopping to look at the landmarks in the forest. Wilson somehow caught a squirrel, which cheered him up from the dour being who’d sat at the borders, and they were in relatively good spirits when the trees gave way to a town.
Blue eyes widened, but the former human settlement was honestly the most familiar thing he’d seen all day. He walked quickly down the little roads, looking at the little cottages surrounded and half-claimed by little clumps of foliage. Vines climbed over rock and wood, and the man found himself dreaming of what would be inside one of the places before he realized two things: that the pack surely would have been around long enough to already claim those treasures, and that he could probably claim one himself.
Tail wagging, he snooped around the houses despite the cat’s laughing warning that he looked suspicious. Many were still in good condition, although he peered at the wooden frames doubtfully. The stone ones were better and reminded him of the stone buildings on his old trading routes. He began to peer into some when a scent caught him, and he openly stared at the house that was the culprit.
Wilson started sulking the moment he understood why his friend was grinning, but the Turkish luperci paid him no mind. He looked down across a street that wasn’t too far from Hotaru’s cottage, but definitely far enough away so that it could look like an accident if he chose it. He moseyed on over and jiggled the door handle, only to find the immense task of breaking in left to him.
Levent wasted no time attacking the door, while his cat looked on deadpan and the birds sang in the trees around the town.
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