When Gary entered the shower, Lucifron sat on the bed waiting. He looked at the room carefully for the first time. He looks at the photos, the paintings, the decorations. He gets up and passes his hand over the furniture, the desk chair, colored pencils perfectly arranged on a stand. Lucifron stops and looks back. Color pencil? Coriosity wins and he picks up a black-covered notebook that was on the table.
Drawings of pack members, little pups playing, an old shewolf working on a loom, a couple who must have been the mother, as she was hugging the man who raised Gary like a son.
Lucifron feels like he's evading Gary's privacy, but the drawings were so realistic. He had never imagined that Gary could draw much less with such perfection. He knows he should stop but he continues to defoliate
