but in his voice I heard decay

[Ezekiel de le Poer]

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     Training had told him these things. Tristan, even though he had so very much resembled a wolf, was no purebred. When the two had wandered too close to other wolves they had been hounded; Ezekiel more so, for his blood. Tristan had been absolutely vicious then; showing a side that he rarely did. For these reasons, and for the stories his father had told him and his sister when they were children, he studied the movement. He watched and he waited, cat-like. Both ears rose to a crown on his head, pale hair falling around his face, listening to the explination that he was given.
     “Yeah, I believe that,” he said, a vicious light in his eyes. Despite this, a peculiar smile had come over his face. “This bitch that used to be part of our clan took off for a wolf. After all the shit I did for her, you’d think she’d at least have the decency to stick around. Count your losses—you’ve still got a pretty face, eh?” As he said this, the left side of his face bunched slightly, showing his teeth and crinkling the scars over his eye. Though this was a humorous thought to him, and indeed a commentary about himself, Ezekiel was oblivious to the fact he had just turned himself into a dragon.

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