Clayton sent the letter off to Caoimhe and ran off to the woods to hide. While the demographics of the town tended in his favor, he didn't want to place any bets on the Fera going out of their way to protect a lone wolf. The Garou weren't trying to kill him and he did not know how to process it. He did his best to lay low as he headed home. Looking around, he turned into a wolf, sniffing the air around him. No trace of anybody near his home.
Shifting back to human, he looked through the windows. None of his furniture was disturbed. He held his hand against the window and stared at his reflection, shifting into the Umbra. Everything was as it had been.
It was the simple lack of a reaction that unnerved him the most. Ever since his pack had died, he had accepted that the Nation would want him dead once they found out his rejection of it. The Garou were aware he existed some months before, but there was just enough plausible deniability, especially with the Nuwisha vouching for him. But the evening before, the call of the hunt had him show his true face. Now most of the nonhumans in town were aware of what he was.
Yet no attack was coming.
Clayton filed the oddity away in his head. He began a letter to an individual who, at worst, found him amusing. It was a risk, but from his world, he could at least trust a vampire to be a vampire. At least the vampires in town found him useful. As he wrote, he idly thought that maybe he'd survive dealing with his kind yet. At the very least, he had some time, so he best make use of it before the Garou started moving against him.
1 post • Page 1 of 1