The Nature of Nurture (Open)

[logan]

Peace. It was something he was close to in that moment, something that threatened to wash over him and bathe him in the warmth that only came with it's presence. It was something Alex had been chasing, something he'd been trying desperately to corner; but as he had slowly been taught, it was something that could hardly be found or achieved in a world such as this. Perhaps once it had existed, had graced men and beast alike with it's being; with it's very existence. However, it seemed to the Wolf that it had long ago been chased away from this land, banished by the nature or Mortal and Immortal alike. Perhaps peace had long ago decided none existed worthy of it, or, and more believably to him, no one truly deserved it anymore. Sin had worked it's way into every facet of existence at this point, Alex knew, he'd watched it happen for one a thousand years.

"Let go of these thoughts..." The words weren't his own, instead those of a tutor he'd had long ago within the walled city of Constantinople. Aeristris, a Greek hailing from the same school of thought of Socrates. It had been he who had taught Alex to think in the way he was now, becoming far too lost within his own mind, wondering things that he could not change, things that he held no sway over, yet things he allowed to control himself in turn. The voice of Aeristris once again danced across his ear, as lightly as the early summer breeze that seemed to carry it.

"You cannot change the world if you let the world change you, Alexander. A faint smile danced it's way across his lips, the saying was one he'd heard often from his old teacher. It had never truly taken hold within his mind, but the words themselves brought a sense of calm over the Wolf. No one had known him like Aeristris had, no one had spoken to him in a way the philosopher had. He'd been the one to open the door to Alex's mind, he'd been the one who taught him there was more than death in war and battle, but also the birth of passion, the sense of honor and glory. If his father, Maximus, had taught Alexander to lust for blood and fame it had been Aeristris who had taught him to lust for knowledge and adulation.

Opening his eyes slowly, Alexander looked out across the slopping meadow before him. It was mid-afternoon and the suns warmth basked down upon him, gently warming his skin. A soft breeze danced it's way across the landscape, swaying the grass that stood nearly to the Lycan's waist. He'd remembered being taught that the first step to finding peace was finding beauty; beauty calmed the mind and eased the soul. He knew nothing within the polluted and dying city could offer him the beauty he sought, and it was with that in mind that he'd brought himself here, to the stables and grazing lands of the farmers. Perhaps it was his Old World upbringing, but the strong work-ethic of the farmer seemed to seep into the ground he worked, and this small meadow, the scent of freshly bailed hay upon the air, the soft snorting and stamping of horses in the distance; this was his Eden. This was his beauty.

Extending his arms, Alex walked across the meadow, his hands stroking the ends of the grass around him as he went. The lush vegetation was soft to the touch, and it seemed to lead him upon a path of it's own creation, carrying him towards some destination that only it knew. The Wolf, however, was more than happy to sit backseat to wherever he was being taken. In that moment he'd let go, if only for the briefest of times. He'd let go of his cynicism, his distrust for the world and all those that walked it. He'd let go of his pain, his betrayl. For now, if only now, he was willing to let himself be happy with the sound of birds upon the air, with the feeling of grass beneath his bare feet; he was happy to be content. Another stepping stone to Aeristris's teachings to peace. In this beauty he had found a sense of contentment, and in this happiness he would seek out his peace.

The grass slowly began to taper off and become shorter and shorter, and Alex realized he now stood at the edge of a stand of trees. The oaks and maples before him stood high, proudly blotting the rays of the sun with their canopys. Looking upon them, Alex let another soft smile grace his lips, an action he'd grown out of practice with, yet in that moment seemed to feel as natural as holding a sword. Bowing his head gently, an unconscious sign of respect to the mighty trees before him, Alex stepped into the shade of the trees around him. He was slowly becoming lost, the problems of the world seeming so far away, the troubles of his own soul lost somewhere beyond the meadow; somewhere beyond these trees. Was he close to finding what it was he was after? Was Alex slowly coming upon that sense of peace he'd chased across the very globe, the feeling he'd been haunted by, and by it's absence, for so long? He didn't know, but he did know that he was happy.

Walking through the trees, Alex found himself wondering things he'd wondered for nearly a thousand years before, and would surely wonder for a thousand years to come. He'd seen horrible evil, he'd committed acts that when he thought upon brought shame to his soul; he'd seen so much horror in this world. Was there a reason for it? For centuries he'd fought in the service of the Church, in those years he'd partaken in the Sacrament, he'd opened his heart and his spirit to the Creator, to God. Was that the source of his inability to find peace? Had he known such a feeling in the love of God and had he lost it upon his abandonment?

It was something he'd often wondered, but how could it be so? The Church had ordered he and his men hunted and put down like dogs. If there was a God how could he have allowed those that had faithfully served him to be put to the sword for nothing more than their service?

He was slipping. The sense of peace fading away, just as it always did when he came so close to having it grace him once more.

Grace. The thought of it, the notion of absolution and tranquility under a Creator. If there had ever been a God, Alexander could no longer believe he cared for this world. He'd turned his back upon his creations, just as they all turned their backs upon eachother. Spinning images of their 'perfect' father. Fists became balled tightly, nails biting into his own palms as his darker thoughts began to swim to the surface like some terrible leviathan of the bible. His pace became quicker as he walked through the trees, his ears no longer hearing the soft songs of the birds but instead the rough and brutish snapping of twigs as he marched. His peace had been lost, and instead his anger now surged through his heart; the darkness destroying the light. What was Alex to do?

Was he truly beyond peace?

"No one sits beyond peace, my son. No one sits beyond the tranquility offered by our Father, you know that..." The words of the long dead Philosopher did nothing to calm him, did nothing to ease a spirit that had been broken and betrayed. There had been a time when he'd believed in God and his love with all his heart, it had been a love he'd been proud to have fill his soul; but what now? How could he love when he'd tasted loss at the hands of those that shared the same love as he? Without realizing it, Alex had gone from a march to a full sprint through the trees.

Running. Don't stop running. Never stop running.

It's how he'd lived for hundreds of years. It's how he'd become programmed. He had no destination, no journey; it was fruitless in it purpose, but the habit had become ritual and the ritual had become unbreakable. Whatever it was that Alex ran from, there was no hiding from it. Was it the emptiness from losing his God? The pain from losing his Pack? Or was it all of it? Had he simply lived through more than a soul was meant to see, to experience? Had he outlived his ability to cope, his ability to come to terms with what it was to be alive anymore? And then it happened, he lost control.

Viciously Alex's fist ripped through the bark of a proud and strong oak, tearing a wound in the tree that would bring about it's death. Letting out a bestial snarl the Wolf inflicted identical wounds upon the other trees around him, stopping only to catch his breath, blood dripping broken broken and skinned knuckles. Wounds that would heal quickly, just as all did with him. The pain would ebb away, leaving only the turmoil within. And it was in that moment that his anger, his hatred turned to sadness. An unbreakable and unbeatable sadness.

A sadness he knew he could never escape.

[Trisha Morello]

The sun was beating down through the canopy. It was a warm sun, one that graced her pale flesh with a soft light that heated her very bones. The trees offered protection from the harsh brightness. Only a quiet light filled the natural shelter. But such serenity was lost on Trisha when she opened her eyes and felt the twigs and stones digging into her bare flesh. Blinking away the grogginess, her eyes adjusted to the light. There was a haze surrounding her vision and she took in a deep breath. Her slumber had not been a peaceful one - not one that she could smirk and stretched thankfully for. Instead, her head pounded in her ear and she felt her entire body ache in complaint as she went to sit up. Ever muscle in her body yelled at her to stay still - to remain lying on the wet forest floor.

She heard a few things in the distance. Horses. Men. The wind on the trees. But what she heard loudest was her inner voice crying. It happened again. It was the knowledge that she came here, completely prepared, that seemed to bother her the most. She was adapting. Trisha had made it a point to know when each full moon was coming. She studied the lunar cycle so that she could know when she would be forced to transform. She'd learned early on that she had no choice in the matter. Each time the moon was full, the beast would burst forth and she would lose all control of herself. So she had made it a habit to go outside the city, strip her clothes, and wait, because that's all she could do. All she could do was sit there naked and wait for the worst to happen.

Isolation - it was a beautiful curse. When she was younger, she had always gone to her father when she was having any kind of issue - even if it was feminine in nature. He always listened to her and comforted her when she needed it. She would seek his advice on everything. Her mother was always there, too, but there had always been a strange distance between the two. That wasn't to say the two didn't love each other deeply, but the bond between she and her father had always been stronger. Perhaps that's where the distance came from. A competition for the man's love. But his daughter was always his precious treasure. He would drop everything he was doing in order to listen to her - even if her topic was as frivolous as the boy next door pulling her hair. But she was alone now. There was no one to comfort her when she sat at night, shivered and sweating as she prepared for the worst. She was alone when she turned into that monstrous thing.

But that was the way it had to be. No one could know what she was. There was one man who knew, but it wasn't because she told him. He seemed to know as soon as he looked at her. The smug bastard seemed to taunt her as he turned into a wolf before her very eyes. An easy transformation whereas she was familiar with the forced monstrosity, regardless of her own desires.

Trisha managed to push herself to a seating position and she brought a hand to the back of her head. She felt the twigs twisted in her hair and she tried to brush them out, but she found it strangely pointless and silly in nature. She looked down at her naked body and noticed the dirt and dried blood covering her limbs. She hoped the blood was her own and that her wounds had healed as they always seemed to do. There were stables nearby but she didn't hear any yells of concern, which was a good sign that none of the animals or people had been injured or seen anything frightful. The young woman felt a wave of gratitude wash over her - something she usually didn't feel. Being bitter had become a favored past time of hers. And she was bitter. Always bitter and angry.

Taking a deep breath, Trisha pushed herself to her feet, brushing off the few leaves and twigs and specks of dirt she could haphazardly. She looked around as she tried to figure out where she was in relation to where she left her clothes last night. It could be miles for all she knew. Biting at her lower lip, Trisha felt a contemptuous wave wash over her. It was so unfair. She would have stomped her foot and thrown a tantrum if she had any less restraint.

Then the sound of growling met her ears. It was a tormented sound - one she was particularly familiar within herself. It was nearby, too, and getting closer. She turned around to see a man tearing a wound into a nearby tree. Flinching, Trisha realized that her chance to disappear and remain unseen had passed. It was a strange sight - seeing a man with immense strength ripping at a tree. Adrenaline? But she could only imagine the sight she had put forth. When he seemed to calm down, Trisha crossed her arms over her chest, shielding her body as best she could. She nodded to him.

"Hey, Hercules, mind loaning me that shirt of yours?"

[logan]

How did he feel? What emotions tore threw him in those moments? They came in a rainbow of assortment, covering the spectrum and it left him feeling lost. Completely and utterly lost. It was a strange sense to have, especially so in the sense that he was a man that had seen most of the world. There was little mystery left, except the mysteries and questions left within his own soul. It was strange, strange to think that the deepest sense of unease, lose, loneliness-- all of it came from within himself and was his own creation. Did that mean in a perfect world he could chose to be happy? He could chose to ignore these feelings and be happy? Content?

Did it mean he was the architect of his own prison within his mind?

Batting at the questions as they flew upon him faster than he could manage, the Wolf found himself focusing on the blood that fell drop by drop. Closing his eyes softly he forced his breathing to something close to controlled. 'Two, three, four.'. Counting the droplets as they fell from his flesh, the Wolf did his best to pull the lid back onto his emotions, to shove everything back down into the box he kept within himself. This was why he didn't try to chase peace, why he didn't try to find happiness; opening himself to his emotions ultimately brought about the only ones he truly felt anymore. ' Seven, eight nine..'. Once again fists clenched, his tightly balled hands causing the blood to drip faster, the number raising as his heart beat the blood quicker. ' Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen...'

And then it was gone. It was over. The little mental box within his mind was closed, the demons locked back away and once again the robotic control of auto-pilot assumed it's control of his heart. It was a soldier's fail-safe, the ability to mimic emotion and act as if you truly felt it; it was a way to deal with the horrors you would ultimately be faced with. Alex had never thought it'd come to this so many years ago when his father had talked of locking things away inside. He'd never thought a day would come when he'd live his life locked away, a prisoner of sorts to his own thoughts and feelings. It didn't make him feel weak, the weak could still fight back. It made him feel beaten. Beaten by his own uncontrollable sadness, his own hatred and confusion at the world. At the way things worked and what had made them that way.

Slowly the Wolf opened his eyes, his gaze dropping to his hands which hung healed by his side. Raising them slowly, he starred at them. Those massive, calloused paws of his had taken more lives than he would ever be able to count, they had brought the pain he felt now to countless families; was this some poetic justice? Was his pain his own design acted out by his conscious? Dropping his hands back to his sides, the Wolf looked next to the pooled blood that had begun to dry upon the forest floor. Kneeling down, he let his index finger poke at the warm, sticky ooze. His own blood, the life-force behind his pain. Tilting his head to the side gently, the Wolf rolled his index and thumb together, smearing the blood. Lost in thought, he let his hand fall away absentmindedly, his thoughts threatening to take over once again.

And then she interrupted all of that.

"Hey, Hercules, mind loaning me that shirt of yours?"

The words were tipped with sarcasm, but beneath them he could recognize something more. Something pained. To most it would have been lost, to most it wouldn't have even gone noticed; but to one who felt a similar pain it was something that screamed out to another. Turning to face her Alex let his own eyes lock with hers, his gaze never trailing away from hers, taking no notice of her nude body. She smelled of a Lycan, like himself, and judging by her age and the moon last night he could piece the scenario together before him. She'd lost herself, she'd had control of her own mind and body ripped away from her and it was a vicious and terrible feeling to say the least. He'd been raised by Wolves and for that reason been taught and coached on how to deal with such transformations, his pack had taken him hunting his first moons and ensured his safety and with it brought understanding.

Before him stood a girl who hadn't been given such opportunities and for that reason he felt a pang of regret, and sadness for her.

Perhaps this was why he'd been called to this city? In that moment, in those fleeting seconds as he looked upon her he wondered if she'd shown him why he'd been called here. Not for war, not for blood; to teach. He wasn't an Alpha, he wasn't a Leader; but he was lost just like so many of these younger Wolves. Through them could he find what he was after? And in his search could he teach them to control what they where and help them find the peace that eluded him so?

Taking a step forward, Alex pulled the shirt off of his shoulders, one that was large enough to hang upon her like a dress, and keeping his distance, tossed it to her feet before turning his back to her. What did he know? Perhaps giving her his back could be his undoing? It provided her with the chance to slam a silver-dagger between his shoulder blades, to rip the life from his body. He didn't care at the moment. She'd caught him at an interesting time, a time when his soldiers self-preservation was hardly on point. She'd caught him at a time where he was emotionally open to pain, whether it be his or anothers; she'd caught him at a time where he wanted to help another.

"Are you hurt at all?" The question was simple enough, after all it was no secret that the city was littered with it's fair share of Hunters and Vampires alike. Both of which would love to put down an over-zealous young Wolf incapable of controlling herself during the lunar cycle. At the thought of that Alex felt a surge of protective instinct, the Wolf within himself crying to protect the young. He realized, with a half smile gracing his lips, that had a Hunter come forth in that moment he would have torn his throat out, no questions and no hesitation.

Looking back out into the trees around him, Alex began doing the best he could to usher the sadness from himself. He remembered how his Father had raised him, what Aestris had taught him to be; a soldier, a leader, a Captain. A calm, confident mask settled itself upon the Wolf, the true nature of his feelings disappearing to once again be opened another day. Turning back on his heel, sure she would have been dressed by that point, Alex once again looked into the eyes of the young woman. She was barely more than a child, by Lycan and Mortal standards. Truly a pup. How had she fallen into this situation? Did this city have no Pack responsible enough to find her? Did they not care for runaways and strays?

Where these Wolves as cold and uncaring as Mortals where?

The thought brought the slightest tinge of anger to his heart, like a crackle of electricity surging through him for but a moment. Whoever the Alpha was of this City he would speak to him, he would let him know how he felt and if it brought him into conflict, into a possible grudge match so be it. Because as he looked upon this woman he saw something that brought both immense sadness and joy to his heart. She looked like his Luna all grown up. His precious Luna who'd been taken far too young.

And it was enough to guarantee this Wolf's safety for some time. He'd lost his daughter, there was no reason another man somewhere would lose his.

[Trisha Morello]

There was an air of familiarity when she saw him, but she couldn't quite place it, nor could she understand its origin. She didn't realize the connection she may have had with other werewolves. It never occurred to her that there could possibly be some form of kinship. She wasn't even aware how many there were. Were there many like her? Were there a lot of people out there, pretending to be human when really they were a monster just like her? Or was she one of a few. One of a pathetic number of beasts roaming the world, howling at the moon and craving for that humanity they once had. The term pure blood had no meaning to her, and the idea that she felt like she knew this man was lost to her. She put it to nerves only. Her mind was in shambles. Nothing made sense right now. Confusion was natural at this point.

He didn't seem to question her which was a relief as he easily removed his shirt and tossed it to her. It landed in front of her and he politely turned his back to her. She bent to pick up the shirt, wincing as she did so. Every movement hurt like hell. Every twitch of muscle was met with a pang of discomfort. This was how it always felt after the full moon. She'd only experienced a couple now - her first after coming to the city. She felt lucky that she managed to find a scarcely populated area. One where she could have her monstrous transformation without anyone getting caught in the crossfire. Not that she could particularly remember. Each episode she tried to piece together was blurred and uncertain. She never knew if she hurt anyone - if anyone died because of her. But the guilt that she would feel would probably tear her apart. Taking another's life... it terrified her. It was one of the reasons she hated herself now. The power she knew she had. The strength that her body possessed. The monstrous force of her claws and fangs. It unsettled her.

He asked her if she was hurt at all and she eyed the back of his head curiously. She slipped the shirt on and it hung past her hips which she was grateful for. She would have to find her clothes. They couldn't be too far off, could they? When he turned to face her, Trisha noticed the look of knowing in his eyes. Did he know? Could he know? Was it possible? The man she had met at her apartment seemed to know just by looking at her. Who's to say this man couldn't as well? But what was she missing? What was she missing that made her so easy to point out? Did she have a label on her head that said WEREWOLF? Instead of making any assumptions, she decided to play it safe. Who's to say she knew anything?

Her dark eyes met his and she shook her head slowly, answering his question. She wanted to ask him... Did he know what she was? Could he smell it on her? But she decided to keep these queries to herself. Instead, she noticed the dried blood on his hands. She'd seen the wounds he had earlier from where he ripped at the trees. But they were gone now. Perhaps that answered her questions.

"I don't think destroying trees is a healthy way to vent your anger," she said plainly, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning forward slightly. She shrugged. "Then again, neither is running around naked." Her eyes scanned the area around her. "Which way did you come from? Is there a stables nearby?" Trisha hated asking for directions of help or anything akin to assistance. But it would save her a few hours of wandering if she knew which direction not to head toward.

[logan]

Alex smiled lightly at her words, something like a laugh rumbling in his chest before silence fell between the two of them again. There where things he wanted to say to her, things he wanted to bring up and try to talk to her about, but in all honesty he couldn't be sure how her mental state was. Some pups couldn't handle being faced with the truth, sometimes it sent them over the edge, brought out a rage within them that they couldn't control. Other times it brought fear out of them, after all they guarded their secrets and when faced by people that seemed to know things they shouldn't brought too many questions. No one liked feeling like they where an open book, it left you feeling naked and exposed. Instead of throwing it out that he knew what she was Alex decided to let her know what he was and play it from there.

"People like us tend to deal with our emotions in weird ways. Sometimes it's naked runs, other times it's mauling trees. At least neither of us bled any livestock, though." Smiling at her gently, Alex glanced to the left, his superior eyes starring out through the trees back to the distant meadow, a meadow that too long ago had brought such serenity to his thoughts. "East about a mile is a stable, the Farmer is out tending a field away from there. You'll go unnoticed and I'm sure he has clothes you could help yourself to."

And there it was, her escape route. Alex wasn't going to make her feel cornered, he wasn't going to try and make it seem like he was all knowing and she was stuck with him until she blurted out the truth and he was free to judge her. From what he could tell she was a scared young pup that was in pain and needed some help. Alex could provide that help, assuming she decided to go for it. Though he had to admit, from the way she answered questions down to her very body language, he could tell she wasn't the kind of girl that liked asking for help. Independent, and fiercely so; never a good trait in a pack animal. Though what did he know? He was the one that ran away everytime his problems got too real.

"Let me walk you there. I doubt you need the help, but I couldn't take the thought of sending you to that farm alone on the off chance something happened." His words carried no hint of threat or danger, but instead made it clear his proposition was a way for her to get some help without ever having to ask for it. Alex was used to dealing with a pride, most soldiers carried it like a badge of honor, and learning to make it work was something he'd had to learn long ago. "I have a rented truck not far from the farm either, if we can't find you anything useable there you can take the keys and head back to the city. Either way, it's a win for you. But I don't have to worry some lunatic out in the country burying his latest victim grabs you. Deal?"

It was amazing to see how quickly he'd set aside his own shit to help another with theirs. Some might have seen it as self-less or kind, but in all honesty it was merely another way of running away. It was another form of hiding. If he kept himself busy with the problems of another it was a way to justify avoiding his own problems. And before him was a girl who wasn't even sure what she was, who was stuck wondering if she was a murderous monster or not. Before him stood a woman who needed more help than she knew, and much more help than she would ever be comfortable asking for. In her Alex saw a chance to help another accept what they where, to perhaps find some peace and he'd be able to avoid his own lacking of such feelings for sometime. She'd be his peace, even if it was no where near the real thing.

However, Alex found himself growing worried at what could happen if she decided to go off on her own. Did she even know what Hunters where? Did she know there where Vampires? Did she know that things existed out in the world far worse than her? It may have seemed that nothing could get worse than becoming a thoughtless monster bent on carnage, but there where those that stalked the city who where in control and still chose to be monsters. Looking at this girl, Alex had no doubt that when and if she came to peace with what she was she wouldn't be a mindless killer. He had faith she'd be able to control what she was and perhaps one day teach others to control themselves. He couldn't see the future, but he could see strength. At one point in his life he'd banked everything he was on his ability to judge character and inner-strength.

This woman, despite how little he knew of her, already had his faith. Now she merely needed the strength and clarity to understand what she was.

"Also..." The words left his lips softly, his smile gentle and knowing. "I feel like you should know I'm not exactly a normal guy. I don't think you'd believe me if I told you what I was, but let's just say it's a good thing it's not a full moon right now." The look he flashed her was one of pure understanding, one that spoke volumes in it's silence. In that simple sentence he'd let her know that he was the same as her; a Werewolf. She didn't need to worry about what he was or who he was, all she needed to know at that moment was he wasn't a threat. In fact, he was the closest thing she had to a friendly face in that moment. As if to cement his words and let her know, he turned on his heel and began walking down the path towards the meadow, his fingers lingering upon the trunk of a tree and as he walked away, his nails dug in and left four slash marks across the bark.

A silent calling card letting her know they where one in the same. Both Wolfkin, both in this together should she chose to merely walk with him.

[Trisha Morello]

Trisha's head snapped up to look at him as he spoke his words. People like us. Bleeding stocklife. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she tried to gauge the meaning of his words. She didn't want to jump to conclusions. She didn't want to assume he knew anything about her - what she was. She didn't want to assume that they were similar in any ways. Like the look of knowing from earlier, it seemed like he was trying to hint to something - to hint to some deep understanding that she didn't ask for or want. He smiled gently at her and she shifted uncomfortably, waiting for the directions. Trisha followed his gaze as he told her where the farm was, that she could probably pick up some clothes there, too. She nodded and was about to start walking before he continued.

Was he actually worried about her. She looked at him strangely. Why offer all this help? Even to take his truck? There must have been a catch. People just didn't go out of the way to make sure a stranger was going to be okay. But could she trust him? She'd just watched him have an episode of extreme anger or frustration, or whatever it was the encouraged him to rip at the hearts of trees. Maybe he was some psycho that was going to be burying his next victim. Trisha had faith in her abilities to kick someone's ass, but that didn't necessarily mean she could. In bars, Trisha often resorted to her fists if people were giving her a hard time. It didn't always end in her favor, but she'd had a few times where her small frame and womanly features came in handy, throwing her opponents off guard. It didn't always work that way though.

This guy was big and if he knew anything about fighting, she wouldn't stand a chance.

So she was about to turn down his offer before he added one more thing. Full moon. Trisha's eyes widened and her hands dropped from her chest down to her sides as she stared at him. Was he saying... Was he like her? A werewolf? How many were in this fucking city? She'd come across one already. He seemed to know what she was just by looking at her and now this man did as well. What the fuck was she missing? It was incredibly frustrating to her - that this has happened to her twice. People know what she is by looking at her. But both times they were werewolves as well, or so this man claims to be one without outright saying it. Was there a connection she was missing? A bond that she couldn't feel?

Trisha closed her mouth which was hanging open slightly and she clenched her teeth together. She shrugged carelessly.
"Sure," she said with not much enthusiasm. He turned and left slash marks on the tree and she narrowed her eyes at him. The people she'd met - they seemed to be able to do things Trisha had no fucking clue how to do. Regardless, she followed him, catching up to walk beside him, dodging trees here and there. "Hey, mind if I ask you a question?" Her tone said that she didn't care if he did mind. "How the fuck do you know?" Her words were harsh, along with her tone - a hint of indignation.