Word Count → 440 :: Cruddy post and a wait, here you go. :C
Levent reclined among swamp rose shrubs, his arm stretched over his head, fingers holding open a book. His other hand lay on the ground beside him, carelessly tossed there, limp like a dead man’s. Anyone coming across him might have guessed that he had claimed a territory here, as few loners in Nova Scotia were so nonchalant. But he did not care; his ice blue eyes continued to scan the yellowed pages of the small but thick tome. The paper was shredded here and there, but even the disjointed scripture was enough to hold his attention one hundred percent.
His guardian sat a few feet away, rasping a rough feline tongue over loose tufts of fur. Wilson was unhappy about his friend’s carelessness, as always, but comfort had settled over them with the coming of spring, and he couldn’t manage the indignation. They’d taken advantage of the good weather to travel north again, almost reaching the isthmus they’d crossed into the region.
“
The cat inclined his head, obviously grateful. The wolf knew that even meeting strangers and risking their displeasure was better than going to Amy for help again. He didn’t even remember most of what had transpired by the fire, other than the feline’s vehement curse and a lot of drunken lust and violence.
“We’ll just have to be focused,” Levent said definitively.
Wilson’s whiskers curled.
The Turkish man grinned broadly, but he didn’t answer. He knew he’d been tugged left and right by shiny objects and pretty women and pretty men, but it was time to see what he could gain from this land at last—both from mortals and jinn and demons alike. He’d play whatever games he had to, sow and tend to the seeds, and eventually what he desired would become his.
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