the hills have eyes.

. . .


As far as their orange spectator went, Cross had had no idea she had been around. During the fight his attention had been too focused and afterwards his mind had been too full. Not to mention that he was only a yearling ? if a full fledged adult wanted to remain undetected, he would?ve really had to be searching for them or know their scent as Basilisk did. What the boy said made little sense to Cross, but the gravity in the other?s voice was too present to be ignored. They were already deep in conversation though, and neither seemed willing to break it off completely for the sake of seeing to the distraction.

What was being said was far too grave. And honestly, Cross didn?t like what the other boy had to say, but it was said in such a tone that he couldn?t find himself being irked towards Basilisk, just at the grim, hopeless logic that seemed to fuel the thoughts. Some of what he said made the white youth wonder... Some of it went too far. Some it was just true enough to hit home. Cross found himself looking at the purple eyed one, wondering what choices he would make and what path he was heading down. Cross didn't want to think that Basilisk could... But then what did he know. Only time would set the stage of their futures. -- A grim future from Basilisk's words. But something in Cross?s soul wouldn't allow him to heed all of it. As bad as the world was ? he wasn?t about to give up hope on it and say that anyone could just go off and do whatever they felt like. There were good wolves that deserved protecting. Otherwise what was the point of having strength?

For a long time Cross was silent. But then he raised his eyes from the ground, and his voice from its silence. ?Maybe someone just has to be the strong one who breaks the cycle.? It was a simple fact. And a challenge. Not just to his fellow male, but to Cross himself. Perhaps... perhaps he would be strong enough of body and character to protect those he loved without having to kill. Perhaps...






. . .