Hideaway Strath oh i tried that. he bit the vet

casually pping roarke from turo's account.

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“Roarke,” Atruro chides his son as the boy bumbles along, losing the boy’s attention for the seventh time since taking him to the borders. He is young and his attention is that of a squirrel’s but any time that Arturo can take the children out on patrol with him spares Lotte and Hemlock the duties of being sitter to all of the rambunctious Lotturos. Arturo does not expect any trouble, falling (perhaps too easily) in the quiet of the Hinterlands with an assuredness that Teaghlaigh would greet trouble with teeth bared and a disposition to physical violence. Arturo is a wielder of the pen and the saying has always gone the pen is mightier than the sword but diplomacy only extends so far. Especially when the ambassador is always looking for an edge, a way to give himself ultimate control. He needs to make a second visit to Silver Creek, to solidify the proposed alliance or to come to neutral terms. He does not like lingering in the grey area of uncertainty. Now that the Lotturos are older it does not seem like quite so an impossible feat. Arturo’s steps cease as he realizes that he has lost the winter’s bane once more.

“Roarke.” Arturo snaps as he turns around expecting to see the boy only to feel his heart drop to his stomach and his breath push from betwixt his lips in a sharp hiss when he realizes the boy is nowhere to be seen. Freezing panic washes over Arturo and he lets out a violent shiver as his fiery, twin sun gaze furiously combs the underbrush for any sign of his pale son. “Roarke!” The very last thing Arturo wants to tell Lotte is that he lost their son. Arturo curses low in Gaelic, mildly surprising himself (for it has been some time since he has spoken his native tongue). “Fuck, Roarke, you come out here right now.” His heart is in his throat and he moves like a heat seeking missile when nearby underbrush rustles and a low giggle escape the thick, dark bushes. “Raaahhhh!” The boy leaps out of the dark emerald foliage with his battle cry and pounces upon Arturo, his paws smacking into the gangster’s muzzle with a light smart. Arturo hangs his head and lets out a slow breath of controlled ire. The boy only wants to play, but he’d nearly caused Ceannasach to have a heart attack.

“Come little warrior,” Arturo gives Roarke an encouraging nudge with his muzzle to the boy’s behind. “we’ve got to make sure Teaghlaigh is safe,” There is a pause and narrow of the gangster’s pupils within their pools of fire. “lets not tell your mother about this, eh?” Else Lotte might never trust him with their children again.

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