These Boots Are Made For Walking

The woman moved closer and Carthage was hesitant and nearly took a step back. Not so comfortable with the woman nearing him, he eyed her carefully. Although she reeked of his brother and this pack, he hardly trusted anyone anymore, even Hannibal. He certainly couldn't trust this woman, as she appeared to be no more than a whore Hannibal had decided to impregnate. What was so special about her? Carthage had been trying to gain his brothers attention for as long as he could remember, but time and time again he was cast aside for some woman. He hardly cared anymore, on the verge of opening up more to this pack and less to his so called family. Where were the rest of them anyway? Carthage was beginning to think he was following Hannibal too blindly. Did Hannibal even include Carthage in his future?

The thoughts alone annoyed Carthage, so once she had silenced herself, he had quickly moved away, turning to focus his attention on anything else for the moment. All he could manage to find was moss growing on the trunk of a small, fallen tree near by. He pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes tight, but only for a moment. With a breath, he replied to the woman, though his effort and care were little.

"You should know you're not the first and you certainly won't be the last to attract his attention, children or not." Maybe it wasn't wise to say ill things about Hannibal, but at this point he was losing faith in the Klein's altogether. Suddenly, he wondered if Tyranis were around. He had to push the thought away to focus on the woman and the venomous words she'd likely have to follow his own blunt ones. He doubted she was anything but loyal to the man, and for some reason it bothered him, though not her particularly. Why did everyone always blindly follow him, including himself, without much reason? More so than before, Carthage wanted out of this conversation. He had some thinking to do, and maybe a talk with Tyranis.


"Speech!"
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