As I Rise

Razekiel Lykoi · 06-19-2011, 10:43 PM

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WHOOSH!

The two had met at an appropriate hour and set out early, traveling in such a way and direction that Nayru insisted they take to avoid Inferni and Anathema irritation. Razekiel clearly lacked the trepidation of such places she possessed, but that was only natural: The coyote was a man of peace, and thus he believed that all others around him shared in the same. If they did not provoke such packs, they would not be provoked; besides, most of Inferni was family to him, different as they might be, and he had utmost confidence they would not bring harm to one of the matriarch's eldest sons, especially one as non-threatening as he.

Every so often on their trek he would enlighten her with the countless stories he had collected in his time in Juniper; the times he'd loved Ocean Flower till the early dawn, the birth of his children, the places they'd seen, Sage's first words, China's love for the shape of poison ivy leaves, the time the infant Micah had sat on a bee and consequently stung in the ass by it. He spoke of nights beneath the stars and days beneath the great sunny sky. He spoke of the French pack, Aube de Musique, with whom he had spent so much recent time. He spoke of the mountains and valleys he was leading her to, the Buddhist temple hidden away in Halcyon, the great wonders of the long-lost New Glasgow. With fantastically enthusiastic arm-waving and a smoking joint in his teeth, he spoke with great excitement, as if he'd lived a full life already and yet had barely gotten started at it.

He recognized the mountain's peak as they neared it, and with one deep breath of that fresh mountain air, the coyote turned a hazy grin to the two-toned alpha. "All right, Miss Liberty, take a deep breath and c'mon," Razekiel chuckled, then rushed ahead of her, racing the short distance to the mountain's climax ahead of her. The wind picking up his fur ever so gently at its height, the coyote gazed lovingly into the view a moment before turning and smiling as she joined him.

"Here," Razekiel said, turning straw-hued eyes to the wind once more, "here is where I'll build... Where we'll build, if you join me, little Freedom."

The view was fantastic: The mountain was not the tallest, nor were they at its highest point, but the scope of the territory below was nonetheless broad and unhindered. Blanketed in a thin layer of sunlight, before them laid great rolling green lands and plateaus and a sparkling ocean in the far distance; the great New Glasgow lay to their far east, still frozen in time as it had been so many years. Rivers and streams weaved through green pastures and clouds rolled overhead. Not even the trip down the other side of the mountain seemed a trial: No, nothing about such a place seemed frivolous. It was a picture of peace, of harmony — or perhaps the closest one could find in such a day and age.

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