quite eradicated
It was peculiar, in a way, that Ezekiel did understand how to speak with any tact. He had spent more than half his life in savage country, living as a loner and surviving without aid. He spoke to birds and himself, but mostly, there was silence. Silence was something he welcomed. Most days he could get away with not talking to anyone but Ibsen, and Ibsen left him alone while he worked on projects. Alma’s quiver was almost complete—he had only to fletch her some arrows (as he also needed to replace two) and he could turn them over to her.
This was why he did not press Myrika, nor mock her obvious behavior. She was younger than he was, and a stranger here. The thought she was afraid of him had never even occurred. “Nothing serious,” he admitted, finally smiling honestly. He let out a chuckle and wagged the bird like a ragdoll. “So how about I cook this for you, eh? You’re just like my sister, too skinny.” He teased, but it cut him deep; how could she have left him again? A shadow crossed through his sun-colored eyes. “You have somewhere we can start a fire? I’ve never really spent much time here…not a big fan of human things,” the Aquila went on, rolling the bird’s head between his fingers.
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