Mark Chance
Boingy! Boingy!
Near to Hope, Sleestak scans the scene. His cold demeanor belies his racing mind.
I must find Alwyn. He's done too much for me.
Sleestak casts about, trying to figure out where to start looking. Alwyn isn't an important man by any stretch. More of a scavenger than anything else, but the pure strain human took Sleestak in when he was a youngling. Sleestak's people, if you can call them that, don't raise their young, but leave the eggs to hatch and the hatchlings to fend for themselves, which they can do with the right combination of luck and instinct. Sleestak, on the other hand, was raised by Alwyn, a hard-drinking desert-scratcher who took a fancy to the feral young reptiloid.
Where are you, father?
I must find Alwyn. He's done too much for me.
Sleestak casts about, trying to figure out where to start looking. Alwyn isn't an important man by any stretch. More of a scavenger than anything else, but the pure strain human took Sleestak in when he was a youngling. Sleestak's people, if you can call them that, don't raise their young, but leave the eggs to hatch and the hatchlings to fend for themselves, which they can do with the right combination of luck and instinct. Sleestak, on the other hand, was raised by Alwyn, a hard-drinking desert-scratcher who took a fancy to the feral young reptiloid.
Where are you, father?