Dust Bowl Dance
I was listening to 'Dust Bowl Dance' by Mumford & Sons and I though it was quite fitting for when Arty's father went missing.
Duh, the soundtrack's 'Dust Bowl Dance' by Mumford & Sons.
'So one man has and another has notHow can you love what it is you have got?' Mumford & Sons 'Dust Bowl Dance.'
Artemis stood in the vast expanse of the Fowl Estate. He felt more lost and alone than ever as the tall grass came up to his knees and the trees, big and small, towered over him, making him seem smaller than he already was. His mother was in the manor somewhere, weeping like a child. As if she had no backbone. Artemis would not cry for his father. He was not weak. He was a Fowl.
But he was a child. He just wanted to feel the relief of letting his tears flow. Why couldn't he cry? It couldn't be good for him, keeping his emotions in like he was. But his father would have different ideas, and so Artemis stayed true to his father and held them in, telling himself to act like a man, not a baby. He wasn't a baby. He was in double digits now. Grow up.
Artemis found himself thinking about all the things his father had done. And wanted him to do. He wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, but Artemis wasn't sure that his feet could fill those criminal mastermind shoes.
Artemis scowled. His father was a criminal. He was ten! And his father wanted him to be a criminal. Didn't the man understand that all he wanted was to run back into the house and cry in his mother's arms! No, Arty, thought the boy sarcastically, you must be bad, a criminal, put that amazing brain to doing dastardly acts.
"Start them young," he muttered sourly.
His father should be in jail. He should, realistically, be rotting in a cell. Artemis didn't want to be caught and be thrown in jail. Though no doubt his big brain could get him out, he wouldn't want the humility of it. And what would his mother think of him?
Artemis sighed. Mother or Father? Gold or emotions?
He'd go for gold.