08-11-2009, 12:26 PM
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The rain had managed to break—at least temporarily. Ezekiel had not yet returned to his own den, and spent most nights holed up as far north as possible. Despite everything his grandmother had said, he still felt like a failure. Talitha was gone. She had run off after a ghost who had abandoned them not once but twice, and it hurt. It hurt more then anything he had ever imagined; even beyond the physical pain the broken ribs had given him. That was why he was training so vehemently. Physical pain could mask the emotional distress.
In his Optime form, the boy was a few yards from the crashing falls in the ravine. He had spent most of the morning doing what weight training he could manage, but his resources were limited. That was when he had turned to endurance, and begun swimming. The current of the water was stronger then usual, and presented quite a challenge. Twice now, he had needed to scramble to the bank and rest. Currently, the boy was doing just that—laying on his back and staring up at the gray sky, fur damp but not entirely soaked. Vaguely, he was aware of the beginnings of hunger pangs, but not enough to cause him to abandon his training. Rolling back his shoulders, the Hydra yawned and shut his eyes. [/html]