Tiny looks around again. The scarred wolf in Denver had mentioned that Fremont was a safe park here in sacramento, but friendly among the People meant a lot of things. It could mean that everyone sang songs and roasted marshmallows and how much Luna loved us. Or it could be a fighting pit with blood seeped 4 feet down, and bodies under that.
He checks the large paper bag by his side, still full.
He waves at the passing jogger, who skirts away.
Nope, not one of the People then. It was getting towards dusk, but the "wait and get lucky" approach was not cutting it so far. Worst comes to worst he'll wait till night and then howl to get some attention, but that would be a mess to deal with the unwelcome sorts.
Tiny stands up and stretches. The tan sport jacket and slacks with a red tie with a lightning bolt motif and a half-moon lapel pin may look nice, and make it abundantly clear whose side he was on. But damn are they hot. The heat is uncomfortable, and Skolis-Ur is very clear about suffering.
You take it. And you like it.