Hideaway Strath I wonder why I'm so afraid

Charles froze when she called his name, but mostly the accompanying title. He'd hoped to never be addressed as Laurel's son again. He didn't consider himself her son, he just wanted nothing to do with her. Life free from his mother was great and he didn't want her to find him, though he doubted she cared enough to come after him. It seemed to him that she must be very happy that he was gone, too, since she had always shouted at him and chewed him out.

She introduced herself as Arlette. The name vaguely rang a bell, same as her appearance did, but he didn't remember her precisely. He remembered Valette, though. He imagined Arlette must have left for similar reasons as he, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her the important questions. Were you tired of getting beat up, too? Or Did you have the courage to leave by yourself, or did your best friend have to drag you out to make you see there were better lives out there? He couldn't, and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to utter those kind of words.

The coywolf swallowed and shook his head. Yeah — No, I'm not gonna go back, too. He came back a bit from his initial state of bewilderment. So many questions were running through his head, such as what had tipped the scales to make her leave, but he just couldn't bring himself to ask them. Afraid he'd be too intrusive, or afraid he'd hit the right mark, or perhaps afraid that she'd ask him the same question. So instead he just grinned with faux confidence and said, Fuck that place, am I right? This sort of charming confidence had always worked on soft, squishy Leta, and he hoped that the same could be said for another one of Valette's daughters. He could sure use a friend out here.