but in his voice I heard decay

[Ezekiel de le Poer]

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     The stranger rose, which told Ezekiel one of two things; either he was nervous around coyotes or he would be aggressive. Either way, there was no sign in his companion’s body language that told him otherwise. Even the wolf’s face was a gargoyle’s grimace, flustered with irritation at something or another. Vaguely, Ezekiel was aware that his muscles had tensed, responding to the subconscious command that he be prepared. Once, he had not been. Once was enough to nearly take out his eye and disfigure his face.
     Both ears swiveled forward, though his approached slowed slightly. “Hey,” he responded, amber eyes focused on the other young man’s face. Certainly, something was troubling him. It wasn’t the coyote’s place, and he knew better then to ask, but his mouth was working on its own. “What’s eating you?”

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