Tiva proves difficult to track down. You're just about to give up in frustration when you happen upon Haken. The brute of a wolf grunts when you mention Tiva and points toward the docks. "She's over by the theater," he growls in a rumbling basso. "Wasting more time with that loser Lapu no doubt."
The water off Long Wharf is a calm steely gray, and a chill wind blows through your hair, red bristles flying. You wish you'd brought a coat.
Tiva and Lapu sit huddled at the edge of a dock, their unmoving backs to you as you approach. Not wishing to startle them, you purposefully scuff your foot along the ground, and Tiva cranes her neck back to glance at you.
"Hey, Decaarr," Tiva says. "How ya holding up? Is Dena doing okay?"
Lapu shifts his head from Tiva's shoulder, looking back at you for a moment with puffy red eyes before flinching away, returning his gaze to the water.
"How could she be okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our parents were there. I even saw Dena's before we ran. Yeah, they're home now, and they're acting like nothing happened, but you saw the experiments. All of us know what's going on."
Tiva shushes him calmly. "What did I say, Lapu? Constant dwelling isn't going to make anything better. I'm scared, too, but we can't let our fear control us."
So much has gone on in the last few days that you don't know where to start.
Tiva laughs out loud. "You? You of all wolves?" She holds herself up haughtily and looks down her nose at you in her best impression of effete aristocracy. "I do say, old chap, could you direct me to the nearest library? All of this fresh air has me in desperate need of a dark, musty hall filled to the brim with intellectual stimulation. I simply can't abide all of this sunlight!"
Lapu cracks a smile, and Tiva playfully punches him in the shoulder.
"Please tell me you told him no."
"Well…" you say sheepishly, and even Lapu cracks into a huge grin.
"You didn't!"
"I did."
"Unbelievable!" Tiva says, laughing. "One misadventure, and Decaarr's off to cloister himself away, entombed forever with a crusty old wolf."
You grimace. "It might just be a step in the right direction. If I get in Ahote's good books, maybe we'll be able to influence the adults."
"Fair point," Tiva says, stifling the last of her giggles. "I hadn't thought of that. Still though, that's a sad state of affairs."
You sit quietly for several minutes, enjoying the company of the others as you look out over the dark ripples of the water, always in motion. Eventually you grow restless.
"I guess I'll get going," you say, standing up and stretching your legs.
"We'll see you around," Tiva says, bringing the flat of her hand to her forehead in a mock salute. "And thanks for checking up on us. Honestly. We were worried about you, too."
You look back over your shoulder as you leave the dock. Lapu's head leans on Tiva's arm, and she holds him tight, comforting him. You should leave them some privacy. Besides, you have plenty of other places to be.
Next
You walk along the chipped wooden rail-ties deep in an old railroad cut just north of Union Station, using the time alone to collect your thoughts and relax before returning home.
Several thin metal overpasses have twisted and fallen, littering the ground every forty feet or so with jagged hazards which you avoid with little conscious thought. The concrete walls to either side are covered with exceptionally tenacious graffiti, spelling out nonsensical words and phrases in colorful, cartoonish styles.
As you walk past, a section of a shadowed gang tag shifts and moves out into the light, revealing a hunched form draped in a ragged coat several sizes too big, its face mostly hidden by a matted scarf and a too-big ball cap. It takes you a moment, but you recognize the shambling creature as the lone wolf who talked to you after the play the other night. Elan, his name was.
You're not sure if he's coming for you or if he's simply moving on to a new haunt, but either way you feel an uncomfortable tightening in your stomach at the thought of once again being subjected to the insane wolf's disconcerting ramblings. You can barely tell what he looks like beneath all that clothing of his, and your mind plays tricks on you, imagining his skin festering with boils and disease. Why else would he cover himself so thoroughly?