(307) AND WITH THIS POST, I am caught up. Two nights in a row. SUP. COME AT ME BRO. ETC. Also Vasiliy you terrible potty mouth with your "damn" in front of a lady HOW DARE YOU.
Vasiliy is by me!
Vasiliy's coal-tipped ears perked at the mention of Freetown. Vasiliy had been to Lisbon, Barbados, and Freetown all in his journey to this land. All three of the previous reminded him -- in a vague way, anyway -- of the European cities. Barbados was the worst: there were a great number of European canines, sailors and captains and some imports who had settled on the island. To make things worse, there was little food on the island. Only fish was to be had by the locals, and all other meat was traded at a price Vasiliy found outrageous. Freetown was not a place he wanted to remain long, either, as it happened -- but the dusky-furred wolf would not have to stay there long, would he? The trip by boat would be much shorter than it had been on land, and even horseback would make the trek shorter.
Freetown, he repeated, stroking his chin. The subject of packs was altogether lost with this new contemplation, and Vasiliy shrugged. I go to Freetown, if want. I go there before, on way here. It was not place to live, but place to trade? Aye, good place to trade. Though he had only just returned from the northward voyage, Vasiliy enjoyed the boat and knew it was his calling and way to make himself useful amongst this pack. What else could he do? He could not create art and beautiful things -- but boating, trading? This was certainly something the Merchant could do -- and should do, as per his very title. There was an excitement about Vasiliy with mention of the trade place and thoughts of the boat, but he waited on launching into a soliloquy about his plans and hopes for such a trip. He must respect Skye's leadership; who knew when she would want to go to Freetown?
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