- "Heavy rains are falling with no end in sight."
midday, 41° F/5° C
Although this land was rich with the history of a particular branch of the Lyall family, it appeared that they had left no trace of their legacy. As it were, the grey wolf winding through the cedar trees hadn't even the slightest sensation of irony. This was not the forest of his kin, this was merely another empty stretch of woodlands that meant nothing more than a little respite from the downpour. A rain drop struck the man square on his nose. He snorted irritably. It didn't rain this much back home and he very much regretted the silly notions that had carried him away from Betram Valley.
But he had come to far to turn back now.
Tesla had never been a smart man — a smart man would have realized he didn't need to come all this way to get what he wanted — but he had tasted enough of the good stuff in life to know how to get it. He knew where most of the shortcuts were and weren't afraid to take them. And he knew how to plan — oh, yes he did. He had made six years of plans. (Alright, most of them had failed, but he thought he had gotten pretty good at it by now.) And it showed: his body was grizzled and greying, puckered by hunger, but it was surprisingly unmarked for a man his age. He looked as fresh as a yearling, with only the blooming white on his face to give his years away.