[aw] where pilgrims disappear

Max Klein · 07-10-2012, 07:48 PM

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pfft, I want all the Sie threads

Instinctively, he was a creature who might have looked on the gangly colt as food. Easy prey was to be favored. Society had taught him otherwise; Ezekiel had taught him otherwise, and now he himself was responsible for not one, but three animals. Was that to be his parting gift? He felt the sharp stab of rejection in his soul and wondered if the once-Aquila thought he could be so easily bought.

Myrika was not Ezekiel. She was tawny and red-haired, muted in ways that her cousin had not been. Max envied her for the bloodline and wondered, again, if that was why he had been left behind. He was not a Lykoi. He wasn’t anything of importance to these people.

A crease formed in the space between his eyes, which turned dark and stormy with doubt. His paws shifted across the ground and dug into the earth; his whole body felt tense, and it showed. “I…” he began, and felt silent. Whatever speeches he had prepared, whatever he had wanted to say, it all fell apart. Something familiar burnt in his belly and the coydog’s face scrunched up, twisted and sour. His neck bristled between the shoulders, though his tail was low, uncertain, and fearful. “Tell me what Ezekiel said,” he demanded suddenly, voice sharp and loud against the otherwise quiet surroundings. “What did he tell you before he left?”

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