Who: Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange What: A loving, brotherly encounter. Obviously. Where: Edge of the huts area somewhere When: Monday, middle morning Rating: High for cursing and violence.
After a few days of wandering the foliage on the island, hunting, tracking, and general away time from the clusterfuck of a situation that was certainly awaiting him back in the small village, Rabastan was ready to get back. It's not even that he missed his cot, or food that he didn't have to hunt and skin, or anything really. Well that was a total lie, he missed Dominique something awful, and he hated that he was worrying her. But there was no way out of it at this point. Plus, there was absolutely no way Rodolphus was ever going to find him. The man sucked at tracking, and it was more than simple to keep away from the noise he was making stomping through the forest his first day here, searching.
So after washing himself off, as well as his clothes in a freshwater stream he finally headed back to the huts, shirt slung over his shoulder and knife tucked into his back pocket. Not that he was planning on using that, unless he absolutely needed to.
It only too about forty five minutes of walking before the trees finally began to thin, and he could see the sunlight as well as the small huts and cottages in the distance becoming larger. And only a few more minutes before he was finally out of trees, sunlight beating down on him at full blast. He stretched, running a hand through his hair and pulling out one of his last cigarettes, lighting it up with a bent book of matches he had purchased in the small store before leaving.
Looking around, he didn't see anyone immediately. But that didn't mean it would stay that way. He kept his ears open, his senses sharp, but for that moment, he was relaxed.