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deep in the belly of a whale i found her
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"Hai paura, vigliacco? Non preoccuparti, non ti faccio male!" Gotham cried, as valiantly as he could, at a shuddering white rabbit as he passed it. The boy had travelled quite a distance but hadn't worked up much of a hunger, or at least not enough of one to bother with catching a rabbit. His travels through the snow were chronicled by his pawprints, a path that went from where he now stood, through a few windy streets of Halifax, through Shiloh Hills and back to his home in Crimson Dreams. It probably wasn't a trip that his parents would have approved of, at least taken solo. He was getting older, though, and less likely to heed the worries that parents would inevitably possess. The days were getting longer, which meant, to Gotham, that he could go even further. For the time being, he stood on the edge of Phoenix Valley, wondering if it would be okay if he went in. He hadn't heard much of them, which could be interpreted as suggesting that they hadn't done anything bad enough to be noteworthy.
The boy would risk having the title of troublemaker if it meant he could travel more of the land that surrounded him. With that in mind, he had few qualms about stepping over the invisible barrier that separated the Phoenix Valley wolves from the rest of Nova Scotia. Gotham told himself that he wouldn't go too far in. Though completely unreasonable and illogical, the realization that this was Phoenix Valley and he was Gotham Phoenix made him feel slightly less like he was trespassing, and he trotted a little deeper than he might usually feel was okay. He had an extra line of defense, after all: a smart-aleck response to any adult that questioned him! Not that they ever worked for any other purpose than infuriating the adult with dumb tricks. Gotham was certainly growing out of the age where anything was cute and forgivable, too, and his belief that he was still adorable and clever would likely be an additional risk.
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