There was always a subtlety in his tact, in the way he moved and spoke. She seemed to grasp the idea and Ezekiel was pleased with this. Despite his relative cleanliness as to his own body, he recognized and understood the effects of marijuana. Amber eyes narrowed against the wind. Her question brought a smile to his face. “Me? No, probably not a jay. Maybe a raven,” he added, thinking of his wards, of Alaine’s story. “Everything fights differently though,” the warrior went on, motioning to the stallion not far from the pair. Only once had he seen horses fight when it was not play, and the lesson had remained with him. “A horse fights a lot differently than we would.”
He moved closer to the girl, tilting his head to and fro as to better study her. It was done without any interest beyond fighting, for her red muzzle and familiarity had given away their family tie. She was still quite pretty, of course. “I bet you could fight like a bluejay,” Ezekiel commented, taking a step back. “Do you want a lesson?”
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