The trip to Millinocket is swifter than usual, and though Martin doesn't complain on those long trips, Thundersnow has heard several times many words of thanks for the expediency he and Ren owe the Perunka. Instead of taking a room in the town, Martin makes mention of his intentions to stay at the poor farm while here, perhaps because the accommodations are more plentiful if not fancy. That is the destination once the trio reaches Millinocket, and the road that runs alongside the town's train tracks has been churned into mud by the incessant Bud rain.

Serendipity passes the time on the trip by alternately chatting with Martin and singing songs that come to mind. He seems cheerful enough to be there, and behaves himself fairly well, which is to say he doesn't do anything to particularly tease Danny or cause Martin to spontaneously combust via blushing. Though the last has its dangerous moments.

The old but reliable buckport wagon is loaded down with Martin's aquisitions and several boxes of carefully wrapped ceramics, as well as Martin and Ren, and the resulting weight has necessitated the use of the Stormrunner form. Thundersnow's excessive mane and tail are braided and bunned out of the way, making him look something like a lean draft, and the mud has splashed along his legs and flank. The result is an odd transition from his flat, black-brown coat to the pale, dusty brown of dried mud. Mud-mud-mud he whickers to himself as they go along the road. The harness is made for a Perunka, and has no bit or halter, but instead the reigns lead to the neck and sides, so the driver can still signal to the horse for turns.

Martin is clearly getting used to being around shifters, as he spends most of the journey holding the reins, yet calling out the upcoming turns and corners rather than attempting to steer his friend like he would an animal. He doesn't speak a bit of the language of beasts, but those wickering sounds get comments of sympathy. It doesn't take magic to see that the muddy trudge isn't a fun one. To reward Ren for not overtly menacing the capillaries of his face, Martin has spent more time on this trip telling stories and talking rather than curling up evasively to read from his book. It's been a companionable journey, but the dingy buildings of Millinocket, and the fragrant smell of a cowtown in the muck, has cast a rather urban pall over the landscape, and Martin gives the filthy streets a fretful look. "You'd think people could clean up after themselves," he comments. "Look at that brickwork. I bet that would be white if anyone took a scrub brush to it."

Serendipity leans fondly against Martin's side, watching the town surround them. "Seen worse kept places. People just don't like doin' the scrubbing an' all, y'know? Plus, if it's food on the table or lily-white walls..." He shrugs philosphically. "Could always bring it up t' the town hall. If they got one."

Squish, squish in the mud, Thundersnow continues. Will have to take a bath, a long swim and a bath, or Dreaming-Raven will be very angry. No mud in the house and on the clothes. Squishing mud. Aside from the occasional whinney and the whickering sounds, he's rather quiet, and his size has not proved to be a burden in finding the safe places for his hooves to fall. This has helped keep the ride as smooth as it can be in a buckport wagon that's traveling over well-worn, muddy roads.

"Well, we always manage at the farm," Martin says, but then he frowns his chagrin and admits, "And I shouldn't be so judgmental. You're right, of course." As the road squishes along, up ahead one can make out the depot, a pieced-together thing of scrap wood to form a platform alongside the tracks. There is a train there, people gathered around. Martin perks up curiously. "Even so, remind me to donate a load of gravel to this place to put down some decent roads." In response to Danny's wickering, he promises, "There'll be warm food and a dry place to sleep tonight."

"An' water," Ren adds, looking askance at the amount of mud Thundersnow's managed to get himself covered in. "Gravel, check," he confirms absently, as the crowd by the station catches his eye. "We oughta go see what's goin' on over =there=. I mean hey, maybe there's cargo worth trading for or something..."

Food, dry, good good. Thundersnow's ears cant forward, and he sniffs in the direction of the depot. People gathering... His tail thumps against his hindquarters in what would have been a swish, were it unbound, but he keeps along the road, waiting for some sign from Martin.

Martin nods speculatively and replies, "Aye, should at least give it a look. It's not too far out of the way." He sits up a little taller, straining to see over the heads of the thirty or so people gathered around the depot platform, where still more figures move about. "Maybe a big trader has come through to get rid of last wint's stores before this bud's harvest. Can pick up cheap food that way."

Serendipity sits up a bit himself, intrigued. "Could be," he agrees, "or, y'know, people bring things up from the bigger cities once in a while, that're hard to get around here. Never know." He sounds a little distracted, though, as if the trading prospects are perhaps not the absolute highest question in his mind.

Thundersnow listens back for a moment, then with a grunt and a bob of his head he carefully turns the wagon off the main track and towards the depot. The going is a little more difficult this way, but he makes the best of it, and slowly but surely they approach their new destination. There comes a point where trying to get a buckport and an animal larger than most draft horses any closer would be pointless, and so he stops, resting his weight on one foot and sniffing around.

The air smells dank, the lingering scent of many layers of coal dust combined with lots of people in various states of washedness, plus the odors of what the less savory denizens of Millinocket have left in this rundown part of down. Everything looks like poverty, smells like it. Even the 'well to do' gathered around the platform are farmers who look well off merely by contrast to their surroundings. Martin stands up in the buckport, using that plus his height to a distinct advantage. His expression goes puzzled as, through the crowd, a man's voice calls out, "I'll take two head. Two head of cattle for the lad, and I promise you he's a worker, folks."

Serendipity half-climbs Martin to take advantage of that height, standing on the edge of the buckboard's side with his farther foot. His expression goes puzzled as well, but only for a brief moment. Then it darkens considerably. "'Two head of cattle for the lad,'" he echoes quietly. "Hopin' that's just a finder's fee..." He hops over the edge of the wagon, onto the ground.

Thundersnow blows out an explosive breath and shakes his head, a dangerous motion from something so large. Selling, selling people. *Slaves*. He otherwise keeps still in the harness, but it's a stillness full of tension and building anger.

Martin's expression remains calm. It's all in the subtleties that any emotion shows at all -- a faint pursing of his lips is all that shows of indignation, and a slight quirk of one brow the raging of his fury. "I'll be a moment," he mentions to his companions before he too hops down from the buckport, his rather significant weight causing a noticeable difference once it's vacated. On the platform, a strapping boy of about thirteen stands looking wide-eyed and uncertain. He holds the hand of a girl of about ten, who clutches a battered old ragdoll and regards the gathering of farmers and businessmen nervously. A wee little man in a black hat seems to be the warden of the dozen or so children lined up on the platform. They range in ages from early teens to toddling, and the only thing any of them seem to have in common is that they all look poorly dressed, haggard, and a long way from home. The hatted man holds up two fingers to a farmer who regards him dubiously. "Two head for two head," he says. "The girl comes with him." The farmer shakes his head. "I don't need a girl." The thirteen year old slips an arm around the girl's shoulder protectively as she starts to cry.

Serendipity slides remarkably easily through the little open areas in the crowd -- there are a few positive points to not being a huge hunk of man like Martin, once in a while -- and toward the front, where he can get a better view of this operation, and its participants.

The crying doesn't help Thundersnow's mood any, and his ears pin completely. He paws at the ground and grunts ominously, which only sets the harness to shaking and jingling. Crying-child. Scared and hurt. Selling people.

At times like these, being large and a pacifist don't go well together. Whereas he could probably knock people aside and clear a path, instead Martin remains painfully polite as he excuses and begs pardon all the way through the crowd toward the front. Before he's out of earshot of Thundersnow, he tells him with utter sincerity in his tone, "I'm terribly sorry. Hopefully this won't take long." In the moments it takes Martin to catch up to Ren, the kin gets a front row view of the wee man trying to pry apart the teenager and the girl as she clings to him and sobs. "Stop it!" the boy cries, trying to sound fierce, but his changing voice chooses then to crack. "She's my sister. Stop, I can't go without her." The farmer looks impatient. The black hatted man tugs harder, and though a few people mutter about the sad state of the situation, not one actually steps forward to speak aloud. The rest of the children sidle closer to one another, away from the growing commotion.

Serendipity's eyes narrow, and he looks over the man, the children, all of it. "Hey, kid," he directs toward the platform, "...what's your name?"

Thundersnow makes a low squealing-whinney sound, annoyed and agitated. His head swings around to nibble at part of the harness, the only possible outlet for his frustration.

The kid looks wild-eyed at Ren, holding his sister tightly as the smaller man tries to pull her away. She's got an arm latched around her brother's with the grip of a barnacle, and in her increased panic, her sobs become wailing. The older brother continues to hold fast to her, though now he looks at Ren instead of the farmer who has bought him. "James," the kid replies, though his voice is hard to hear amidst his sister's screaming. As Martin makes his way forward to stand behind Ren, he gives the man in the black hat an somewhat annoyed look. "Excuse me, sir." So soft-spoken, his voice barely carries. If the man hears, he gives no indication.

Serendipity wanders up to the platform, leaning casually up against it to talk to the kids. "Afternoon, James. Nice t' meetcha. I'm Serendipity. An' this's your sister, huh?" He looks to her, "...how 'bout you, what's your name?" He shoots the man in the hat an annoyed look. "Leave the girl alone, would you? I'm tryin' to have a conversation here. An' I believe my friend there," he gestures toward Martin, "is lookin' to have one with you." Attention back to the kids, he inquires, "So. What're a couple nice kids like you doin' in a place like this?"

James gives Ren a look the kin is probably used to -- that of a person having an utterly surreal experience. The girl doesn't give her name. She's too busy kicking and crying. Martin clears his throat again and repeats, "Excuse me." When the wee man shoots Ren a look and tells him, "To the dark with you. Either lend a hand or shut up," Martin's look of annoyance increases, and his voice carries, strident and somewhat... well, irritated. "Excuse me. Sir. You with the hat." The crowd around Martin kind of quiets down, and as though they see him for the first time, and realize he's about a head taller than most of them, people back away and give him plenty of room. He moves around Ren and hops up on the platform, approaching the fellow who releases the girl and backs up as well. "A word, if you please." Martin's tone is still more or less polite. He hasn't raised his voice. Maybe this is why the man whips off his hat and fidgets with it, but doesn't run away at the blond's approach. James, who now has a somewhat quieter and sobbing sister in his arms, tells Ren, "Orphan train, sir."

Serendipity reaches into his coat and pulls out a handkerchief -- or at least, tries to. It appears to be attached to another. And another. And another. And another... the line of them comes out without apparent end, one brightly coloured square of fabric after another, sewn together by the far corners. He stares at it a second, then shrugs and tucks the end of it he's got into the girl's hand. "Here y' go, kidlet, wipe your nose," he murmurs, before looking consideringly at James again. "Orphan train. So your folks're gone, huh? Sorry t' hear it. Who's this guy with the hat, an' why's he seem t' think he owns y'all?"

The little girl stares glassy-eyed at the fabric, then reaches for it tentatively, with a pathetic sniffle. James hovers protectively, but he doesn't try to stop her. The pulling of the many kerchief gets a tentative laugh from a few children who have ventured closer to see what this short, colorful little man is all about. James, the oldest and likely leader of the group, inasmuch as it has one, explains quietly, "He's not s'posed to, but there's no one up this way to stop him. He's s'posed to find us families, and I reckon that's what he does." Meanwhile, Martin and the man have a quiet conversation to one side. It's hard to tell the contents of it. Martin remains calm. Like mountains are calm -- massive and unmoving. Whatever the words exchanged, the little man is clearly losing whatever it is he's vying for, and he eventually throws down his hat and says, "Alright! But you take 'em all." As he stalks away, Martin follows and points out, "That was the idea, yes."

Serendipity is briefly distracted by the less quiet ending of Martin and the formerly hatted man's conversation, and breaks into a decidedly fond grin, glancing back to James and his small band of fellow orphans. "Think there just started bein' someones up this way t' stop him," he replies, and offers a hand to each of the siblings, to help them down from the platform.

"And I will be checking on this," Martin informs the man curtly. "Don't think I don't have contacts down south." The hatted man looks decidedly irritated and waves Martin off as he stomps toward the train. The farmer who had purchased the boy pipes up, "I staked two head of cattle on him. He's mine." Martin pauses to give the farmer a look. He's been fairly calm all this time. It's not til one gets a good look in his eyes that one sees he's just very, very slightly shaking with fury. "I'll see you get three for your trouble," he tells the farmer succinctly. Then he says toward Ren, "Gather them up, if you will? I'm afraid we'll be walking to the farm tonight." This time, when he heads through the crowd, the people give him room. Martin returns to the buckport, one hand thoughtlessly stroking Thundersnow's neck as he says in a low-tone, "Looks like we'll have a few more riding with us."

Thundersnow starts to quiet down, and his fidgeting and nibbling subside. He hasn't managed to damage the harness, at least, but there's more mud on his legs from the constant shuffling of his hooves. Walk, no walking. Up up. Plenty strong for children and Spirit-speaker and Coyote-Child. He noses Martin companionably and carefully, lest he overbalance the man with too strong a shove, and his ears finally wiggle upright so he looks less menacing.

Serendipity looks at the farmer as well, eyes narrow again, but Martin beats him to any comment. As the blond walks away, Ren gives the farmer his best slow, malicious, and tooth-filled smile. "My associate's a lot nicer'n I am," he remarks conversationally. "I mean, way I figure it, you still =got= those two cattle as it is, and we aren't even havin' a Chat with you 'bout the ethical implications of treatin' kids like livestock." The capital is audible and ominous. It should be funny from someone who doesn't have a frame like Martin's to back it up, but it's kind of unsettling, really. "So, y'know, you're already comin' out... a head." He turns back to the kids, and when he grins at them, it's sincere and cheerful. "A'ight, troops, find a partner, line up two by two. We're headin' out. I'm Serendipity, I'll be yer guide t' day. On your right you c'n see a buncha people who really oughta be ashameda themselves if ya ask me, an' on your left there's a pretty cool lookin' train..." He continues in that fashion as he gathers them all toward the wagon.

Martin smiles warmly and rests his brow lightly against Thundersnow's mane in a gesture that is both fond and of borrowing strength. Plus, it gives him a moment to compose himself, flush with anger, as the worst of the confrontation has passed. "Thank you," he tells the Perunka quietly, then gives his neck a pat and looks toward Ren, having conveniently failed to notice the Nuwisha's kin stint as Bad Cop. What he does see is a dozen scared looking children following Ren, clinging close together as though to stray from the group might mean instant death. The townsfolk mutter, but just as before, they don't actually do anything about what's going on. "Alright," Martin says, "Let's load up, littles first, and we'll see how many we have room for. The farm isn't more than another half-mile, I promise."

Thundersnow's impossibly large nose dips down to snuffle Martin's shoulder, and then the stallion turns a dark and inquisitive eye on the approaching children. Little littles, he comments with a nicker, and his tail thumps against his hindquarters again. The bunned braid continues to protect it from getting tangled in the harness.

Serendipity gives Danny a pat on the flank when he arrives, and arranges the kids in a line from smallest to largest, switching the pair of identical twins in the group enough times that several of the more resilient children start to giggle a little. "A'ight! Let's see how many of us we c'n fit in the cart without breakin' the pots an' such," he declares, and leads the line to where the kids can easily be lifted in.

Martin watches the loading of the children, shaking his head mildly as he comments, "If only had his knack for kids." He continues patting Thundersnow's neck, taking advantage of the swell of land on the roadside that puts him more or less level with the giganimous horse. "If it gets to be too much," he tells him, "just let us know. I won't mind walking." He then climbs into the cart and helps Ren deposit children within. In the process, he acquires a six year old girl who decides to latch on like a barnacle, and he ends up with her on his lap as he takes up the reins. She doesn't say a word, instead staring around with huge brown eyes as she sucks her thumb.

No weight like this is too much. Up up. Thundersnow waits until the cart and all its contents are loaded in, and after a few test steps to make sure the buckport can support the weight, he starts forward. His pace is even more careful than before, and also subdued; he avoids deeper ruts and holes at the expense of delaying their trek to the farm, rather than risk damaging their mode of transportation.

Serendipity sits next to Martin as usual, but this time facing backward, the better to converse with their passengers. Names, of course, are the first order of conversation, and James ends up being fairly helpful for this, as several of the moppets look to him as though for permission before answering.

Martin keeps his eyes on the road ahead, as does the solemn-eyed waif whose name, according to James, is Crystal. He also supplies the rest of the names dutifully. Though there is still a pall of nervousness covering the children, they seem less frightened now that they aren't on a platform being looked at like prize calves. The delay is inevitable, and unfortunately it's past the dinner hour when the buckport arrives at the farm. Most of the inhabitants have eaten, and the dishes have been washed. Ren might notice that since his last visit the foundation has been laid for what looks like a future second house of sorts on the premises. In addition to that, repairs have been made on the parts of the old manor that are still standing, thus occupied. The arrival of the trio plus children causes a stir as able bodied men come to help unload cargo and women flock in droves to fret over the orphans.

Thundersnow stands patiently in the harness while things are unloaded, occasionally reaching over to nibble on someone's hair when they get too close. Dinner, he nickers mournfully.

Serendipity helps in various places and capacities, as needed, and eventually notices Thundersnow does not seem to be entirely thrilled with the state of things. His kuminess with the perunka's girlfriend does not go entirely wasted as he jumps to a conclusion and manages to hunt down a bag of oats and a handful of carrots to offer their steed.

Martin tries to keep up, but suddenly finds himself surrounded by a lot of people asking a lot of questions. Patience serves him well, but not his friends, alas. It takes awhile to explain the situation at the train depot, and how the children came to be with him. It takes two women and a lollipop to pry the six year old off him, and then the men want to know where to take the buckport's cargo. It isn't until after carrots are hunted down that someone comments, "That's a magnificent beast you've got, Brother Martin." Martin blinks a bit, then looks immediately contrite. "Oh my goodness. This is no beast. This is a friend of mine. Help me get this tack off of him."

Carrot. Thundersnow strains for the source of carrots eagerly, setting the harness to jingling again. Hungry, dirty, long day. Carrot. Carrots.

"Oh, I dunno," Ren replies to Martin's demurral, "I mean, from what Rae tells me..." He grins, and lifts carrots above the level of his head that the huge horse form might be able to reach them easily. "Hey, Danny. If you wanna change sometime soon, there's prolly a room for the night for ya. Or there's a barn, if y'don't."

Martin gives Ren a scandalized look, and his cheeks color a touch. This gets a knowing chuckle from a few of the people milling about. "You behave," Martin scolds, sounding not terribly convincing in his indignation. With the help of a few hands, the buckport gets brought around to a carriage house, and Thundershow is relieved of his harnessing. "You may change or remain as you wish of course," Martin tells the horse. "But I'm sure even now Sarah's putting tonight's soup on the fire, what with all these children to feed, and there'll be hot tea in the house."

Thundersnow snorts with horsely-indignation. Not a beast. Dreaming-Raven teases. No sooner is the tack off him than his form ripples and collapses into a much smaller, more typically horse-sized shape, and he immediately takes the carrot from Ren. It vanishes in just a few bites, and he noses the Nuwisha Kin in thanks before shifting again, this time to the human form. He's sweaty, his clothes are a mess and covered with mud, and he smiles happily. "Oh, tea sounds good. So does soup."

"So does a bath," Ren remarks, looking at the mud, and then grinning at Danny. "Thanks for the muscle power. An' I guarantee the tea an' soup are both good, too." He somehow ends up beside Martin, arm slipping about the larger man's waist. "Y'know, we've been here several times, an' you still haven't shown me your room here, yet. Think you oughta fix that."

Martin beams at Danny and clasps his shoulder amiably, sweat or no sweat. The response from the others ranges from amazement to a casual familiarity with shifting breeds -- apparently not everyone is as ignorant as Martin was when he first came to Haven. Martin slips an arm around Ren in turn, nodding toward the house as he puts his feet into motion that way. "We can set you up with a bath," he confirms. "And something warm to eat. If the soup has meat in it, there's still the bread, and let me tell you my friend, if anyone on Gaia can bake the bread they serve in Heaven, it's our Sarah." One by one, the farm's residents who have come out to greet the newcomers make their way back toward the house. Word must have spread, because once inside, there is warm bread and hot soup, sweet butter made with honey, and a teapot brewing. A table has been set, with three comfortable if mismatched chairs brought around. It isn't all that fancy, but the best in the house is theirs for the enjoying. Martin defers to Danny with a nod, offering him the cushiest of the chairs. "For the man who brought us here."

"No problem at all, I'm glad to help. And, a bath," Danny agrees, looking down at his clothes with faint annoyance. "But, first food. I could eat a house. Two or three houses." Fortunately inside there's a few houses' worth of food available, and Danny grins at Martin, bobbing his head in thanks. "I have to earn the right to eat like there's no tomorrow somehow, and it's my pleasure to help folks get things around." He mostly focuses on eating for some time, with occasional pauses to talk to someone or drink tea. After several helpings of anything that doesn't involve meat, he finally begs off to get washed up, so he's not dirtying up the entire farm, and disappears into a back room for a long hot bath.

Serendipity doesn't eat nearly as much as the other men, which could be because he's smaller and less hungry, or might be because a contingent of the children of the house keep milling around and striking up conversations about the likelihood that the cart contained any tigers or bears today, and other such matters. He chats with adults, too, and probably only a third of the times he opens his mouth end up being to put food in it.

The children do seem quite happy to see Ren. There are also quite a few gawking at the horse man. Whispers abound. This is all very exciting stuff. So is being up past bedtime, but the adults are all discombobulated with the late arrival! It's chaos for the teenagers who are charged with minding the little ones. Martin doesn't help either, since he doesn't say a word to the kids about 'pestering' as their parents might call it. Instead, he watches Ren's interrogation with amusement and converses with Danny over dinner and tea. This may not be the Hotel Royale, but the hospitality is sincere and plentiful. Danny's bath is drawn, and a guest room arranged. A serviceable nightshirt is found so that his clothing can be laundered in the morning. Once he's bustled off to be fussed over, Martin slouches down cozily in his chair, hands loosely clasping his teacup, and he says sleepily, "It's good to be home."

Serendipity finally has some peace, as adults have come to help the teens round the little ones up and lead them off to welcome their new agemates, and he watches Martin, elbow on the table (tch, uncouth!) and chin on his hand, as he smiles a little. "...this's home, huh?" he inquires, without an easily readable opinion on the matter. "'s nice t' visit again. But we oughta get outta everyone's way ourselves soon, yeah? Anyway, I wanna ask you stuff about earlier."

Martin glances around. With the little ones drawn away, the room is quiet, with the creaking of the old house settling mingling with the crackle of glimmering coals in the hearth. "One of them," he replies contently. "Haven is home as well. I miss these people when I'm away, but already I miss Rahne. Justin, Robin and the rest." He sips at his tea. "I'm glad you're with me, in any case." Another sip, and then he asks, "What did you want to ask me?"

Serendipity glances around as well, looking not entirely sanguine with the relative public-ness of the room, but shrugs faintly and gives in. "Few things. Was thinkin' about askin' you about a few things... Like what'd you say t' the guy, anyway?"

Though public, the room is more or less discreetly unoccupied. The hour is late, and most of the people dwelling here are up with the first crow of the cock come daybreak. Those who aren't fussing over Danny or welcoming the orphans to the fold have either taken to their beds or are preparing to. It leaves the pair relatively unharassed. Martin stretches out his long legs, reaching for a bit of bread to nibble at. "I explained to him that while it was not my place to pass judgment upon him, I found the selling of orphans into slavery abhorrent and would not stand idly by. He said he was doing what he had to do to get rid of them, since the trains don't come back til they're empty. So I offered to take them all and solve both our problems."

Serendipity grins, and nods once, relaxing back in his chair himself, and watching Martin quietly for a bit. "I was thinkin' of somethin' pretty similar," he mentions, and then goes back to just silently watching. Gazing, almost, thought it's a touch thoughtful for the term.

Martin arches a brow curiously. "Oh?" he asks, grinning at the gaze, though looking a touch befuddled as to the purpose behind it. "Well, we'll manage. We always do. It's a dozen more mouths to feed, but the good Lord hasn't let us go hungry yet. I imagine we'll get by. It's not like having a bona fide family, but they'll find a place here. I couldn't imagine that little girl going on and knowing her brother was gone and she was all alone."

"Seems family enough to me," Ren replies, "...an' yeah. Nor her brother havin' to either. Not t' mention it's just--" He shakes his head. "People belong t' one person, an' that's themselves. An' to enslave kids, especially... Let's say I'm just broadly against that kinda thing." His brow furrows a little. "Wonder if there's more of 'em out there in town, bought an' paid for."

Martin shakes his head sadly, his attention going all fuzzy as he stares into the fire. "Probably," he replies. "And down the line in every town there's a stop. I've heard of it before. It starts out innocently enough. In cities where the population is getting out of control, and there's all these kids that end up in orphanages and poor houses, they get carted out to the farm areas where a farm family might want to take a child in. It gives the kid another chance at life, you know? Sometimes it's just a farmer looking for another pair of hands to help out, sometimes it's a genuine family. It's not supposed to be slavery, but then people start offering modest gifts to show their gratitude at having first choice of the child they want. Then it degrades into young lives sold away to the highest bidder."

Serendipity is silent a moment as he looks into the flames as well. "If you ask =me=," he says then, although nobody has, "if you haven't got your freedom, y'haven't got anything." After a brief pause, he glances sideways at Martin, thoughtful again, and then sighs a touch and stretches, claiming a remaining roll.

Martin nods sadly, then forces a smile as he says, "At least once they're grown, they're free to do whatever they will. I mean as a child I certainly wasn't autonomous. There were rules, and I had parents telling me what to do. But... well, they were my parents. My family. They weren't a bunch of strangers who had traded me for a pair of cattle." He polishes off his tea, then leans forward to set the cup on the table. "It makes me angry," he understates mildly. "The way some people treat others."

Serendipity nods back. "...well, James's grown, I figure. But the littler ones need a proper kinda family, y'know?" From his tone, the current arrangement counts. "An' sometimes people gotta be reminded things ain't all them..." He taps the roll against the table, though it's soft and doesn't tap well. It's more fidgeting than anything else. Antsiness.

Martin nods agreeably, particularly to the last, about people being reminded it's not all them. He eyes the fidgeting, then smiles softly and arranges his lounging so that, with the opening of his arms, there is an invitation for Serendipity to curl up with him. "Is everything okay?" he asks.

Serendipity vacates his chair with no hesitation and curls into the proffered space, resting his head on Martin's shoulder with an acceptably content little exhalation. "Yeah, everything's okay," he assures the blond, "...just thinkin'."

Martin cuddles Ren into his arms and onto his lap. It's like wearing a blanket made of warmth and crushed velvet. "Anything I can help with?" he asks mildly as he nuzzles Ren's hair.

Serendipity closes his eyes, and breathes easily. "Mm," he replies noncommittally. After a while, he asks, "...did you know coyotes mostly mate for life?" and rips a bit off the roll, eating it without reopening his eyes or otherwise moving.

Martin rests his chin atop Ren's head to gaze at the fire. His body, beneath and around Ren, is relaxed, with no underlying tension implying any kind of withholding. The anger has faded from him, leaving a weariness and calm that, in a cozy chair by a warm fire with the Nuwisha kin, translates into contentment. "I did not know that," he admits.

Serendipity nods a little, finishing his bite of bread. "Most people don't. I mean, that doesn't mean they don't ever go lookin' outside sometimes, an' some other groups of coyotes're more like people imagine, but yeah, mosta the subspecies, they got the whole long-term thing goin' on." He takes another bite of his bread.

Martin nods a little, not so much as to disturb his chinrest. "I imagine if people are different in their sub-groups, there's no reason coyotes wouldn't be too," he muses.

There's another round of slight nodding from the chinrest in question. "I always kinda figured, y'know, I'd find the right couple-few people an' end up stickin' with them forever," Ren muses quietly, tearing off another bit of bread, and aiming it toward where it sounds like Martin's mouth ought to be. "I mean, not =only= or anything, but I like the always part."

Martin is ever helpful with tasks that include putting food in his mouth. He leans in a bit to take the bread and munches contently. "That's how I always felt love should work," he comments once the bread is polished off. "Work isn't the right word. Be." He gives Ren a gentle squeeze and nuzzles at his hair again. "I'd like to think love never really leaves us."

Serendipity half-smiles, only a touch bittersweet. "Yeah," he agrees, and leaves it at that for the time being. He shifts his head after a couple seconds, turning it to let him place a little kiss on the side of Martin's neck. "...was all prouda you, y'know, with th' kid thing an' all," he says quietly, breath warm on the skin his mouth is facing as he speaks, and then just as he breathes for a moment or two. "...an' I =really= wanna go see your room."

Martin smiles, ducking his head as he trails a kiss alongside Ren's temple. He then slips his arms around the kin carefully as he gets to his feet, with Ren all up in his arms. "I was just doing what seemed right," he replies. He seems perfectly willing, and definitely able, to carry Ren to the room in question. This late, with most of the house bedded down, there isn't even the worry of crowded corridors to deter him.