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“He doesn’t want to be found, Peck,” the tiger sitting in the corner rumbled. He felt like he’d made his thoughts clear before, that Peck would not need to ask his opinion. He flexed his claws against the tiled-mosaic floor of their headquarters. They were duller than he remembered.
“I still don’t know how any of you can think that! Just because he’s a bit of a loner? You know he gets too close to the phantoms by himself – that they caught him before!” her sharp gaze turned on the him, she seemed much more a tiger than he currently felt, “I thought you cared about him, Gilbert, but I guess not…”
Peck’s nose twitched, her eyebrows pulled down as she stared at Sir Gilbert. It was wrong. He was not her prey. He was a warrior of Mira and Zios. He did not cower in corners waiting for the world to answer him.
“He made it quite clear he was leaving, that he didn’t want our help, for us to follow him or plan some well-intentioned but misinformed heist on his behalf. I don’t recall him ever asking for you to interfere with whatever plan he had with your useless scribbles,” he sneered at Peck.
His cape was by the door, the red didn’t seem quite as vibrant as it once had. Maybe because Greely’s moth-eaten cloak wasn’t draped beside his. He found himself padding to the door, ignoring the tears in the bunny’s eyes.
The coat hanger was worn, varnish rubbed away with time. It had originally been in Greely’s lair but the wolf had decided it had better uses in their headquarters. This had been where he last talked to Greely, what they last talked about. It seemed like nothing at the time - a casual comment about having seen better days, which wood it was made from, a brief discussion of which varnish would be best and a promise to fix it together. It was made from a large boomseed branch that had felled in the village by Gilbert’s palace. Greely still had the old varnish in one of his cupboards (though Gilbert had his doubts about if it would still be viable to use). And another time Sir Gilbert was left waiting for the wolf.
At least he left a note this time.
He couldn’t count the times Greely had abandoned their plans without telling Gilbert. Something else deemed more important to the wolf. If Greely had just showed up late he wouldn’t mind but he wouldn’t show, wouldn’t leave a note, wouldn’t send a message. He just didn’t show up. He’d apologize later and set up another hang out he’d no-doubt miss.
So at least he left a note. Must have known he wouldn’t be there to apologize this time. But it’s not like he could read the note now, the others had deemed it important to finding Greely and were holding it hostage, pouring over every millimetre of the page for clues. They hadn’t found any.
He was sure they never were going to find a clue on it, it was just a sad excuse for an apology meant for Gilbert. Nothing more.
Greely was smart. If he wanted to be found he’d have said so – at the very least have hinted. He wouldn’t have left without telling them a time to start looking. But that’s what he did. Greely knew the dangers that lay out there – for Zios’ sake, he’d been kidnapped before! He hadn’t left a note then.
But Greely left a note. He’d planned to leave. Planned to abandon the other alphas to look into some half-baked theory or other. Probably hidden any clue to what he was researching, burnt or stolen away with the wolf was Gilbert’s guess.
Wind rushed through the branches above him carrying sounds Mira wanted him to hear. Sometimes it was gossip about which seller might change their stock, sometimes an animal crying out for help on the other side of Jamaa or whispers from the other Alphas of their plans for the day. Now though? She told him nothing. Or maybe that was her message? That he wasn’t needed anymore. The wind had carried no message to him since Greely left.
The tiger flexed him claws into the dirt, ripping up some flowers. Flicking his paws, he looked to the sky, past the branches above him. He had to believe Greely had a plan.
“He doesn’t want to be found, Gilbert” the tiger muttered.