[p] seven lamps of fire burning before the throne
#1
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(307)



Ithiel is by me!

The dusky-furred coyote reclined on his stone bed, nestled into the furs piled there to keep it comfortable. Zedekiah hunkered in the entrance to his cave, occasionally muttering a word or a grunt in his sleep. The closer of the two oil lanterns burned brightly to light his reading. He knew these passages well and could quote many of them, but he read this book each morning when he rose and each night before he slept all the same. He stretched the sleep out of his body as he finished his passage and shut the book. The noise woke Zedekiah, who muttered what sounded distinctively like a curse.

Ithiel swung both legs over the side of his stone bed and walked over the pelt in the center of his cave, moving to strap the leather vest he customarily wore to it. The quiver was next, followed by the sword belt and the sword. In all likelihood, he would not need a single weapon today -- most days, he did not need a weapon, after all -- but Ithiel never left unprepared, all the same. Stone-faced, he gathered up saddle and bridle, reins and rope, and moved out of his cave.

Lystra whickered a greeting from where he'd tied her the previous night, and the dark-furred hybrid carried her saddle over to her, strapping it along her back quickly. The reins were next. He wanted to get moving -- he'd already overslept and lingered too long in bed. The morning sun approached ten now, and Ithiel didn't want to ride too long during the hottest parts of the day. He was still buckling the saddle to Lystra's back when the sound of horse -- and moving fast -- made him whirl about, red eyes wide with remembrance of the charging wolves and their great beast-horses.

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#2
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(394)



Myrika is by Kiri!

Cahal drove her across the territory faster than Myrika would have believed. The big thoroughbred -- or part-thoroughbred -- had a marvelously long stride, and he was capable of carrying her at a blistering pace. Just now, though, the hybrid wasn't paying much attention to the horse's wonderful speed and long, leggy stride -- her mind raced as she considered where to go, who to speak to.

A leader should not be so indecisive, a voice chided. It sounded rather like Kaena, but Myri could not be certain. With it, she kicked her heels into the bay stallion's side and bid him run faster. The flatlands of the marsh were just the place for this, but before long, they had to slow as they splashed through the river cutting through the center of their territory. The forest loomed before them, but Myri turned her horse's head, trotting him toward the caves. She saw Ithiel not long before she pulled the horse to a stop, leaping down and out of the saddle.

Rare astonishment was apparent on the hybrid's face -- faint as it was, anyway -- and Myrika suddenly remembered their last interaction: an argument about his handling of the trader on the borders, not long after Myri had come upon Ithiel tormenting the poor Rain and his daughter. Her fright and anxiety must have been apparent on her face, for the moment her feet touched the ground, Ithiel was standing beside her, one hand on the sword at his hip. What's wrong? he demanded, and Myri smiled wearily.

It was like him to have forgotten or disregarded their argument, so very like him -- in the face of danger to her or Inferni, he was ever the warrior. It's okay, she breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly. I think. Can we go and talk in your cave? She saw her cousin deflate, relaxing by a large degree. His hand dropped away and he nodded curtly, heading toward his cave. Myri took only a moment to tie Cahal to Lystra, and followed after him, blue-green eyes focused on the ground at her feet. A leader should not look at the ground so, the old woman cackled in the back of her mind, and she looked up sharply, the frown written on her muzzle and the half-mast position of her ears.

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#3
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(418)



Ithiel is by me!

Ithiel was alarmed, but quickly calmed with her words. Now, he was mildly curious -- only when necessity called did they visit one another. The dark-furred hybrid stepped toward his cave and shoved aside the pelt covering the mouth of the cave. He'd chosen a small-mouthed cave, with a little bit of a tunnel leading into a wider opening where his sleeping space was. Myrika had never been inside of it before, he thought. Tying off the leathers so the airflow would be better, the dark hybrid moved to the rear of the cave, motioning Myrika to sit on his bed. It was the most comfortable seat, covered with pelts. She hesitated a moment but hopped up in the end, sitting in the pile of elk and deer furs. Ithiel took a moment to light the second oil lantern. Light flared up in the cave, reducing the shadows to only the darkest corners.

He turned toward her and sat on the edge of his bed-stone. The shelf where he slept was large and there was ample space between them. What's going on, Myrika? he asked, keeping his voice even and his face a stone mask. The faint smell of Ezekiel and Kaena lingered about her -- the latter was normal, the former odd. The freshness of the smell told him they'd just seen one another. He looked at her as she inhaled, taking a deep and steadying breath. Her blue eyes moved around the plain interior of his cave -- it was without decoration, a purely functional space with plenty of storage. Arrows, fletched and ready, stood stacked and ready, along with the rest of his things, neatly arranged.

I like your cave, Myrika said lamely, and Ithiel leveled his crimson-eyed gaze at her, displaying his lack of amusement with his usual still, even face.

Myrika, he prompted, frowning.

Okay, she said, seeming to deflate before his eyes. Her shoulders slumped and her ears folded against her head. She frowned at the pelt rug in the center of his cave and looked up at Ithiel. Zeke's gone, she said. He just left. He... she trailed off, shaking her head. Tangles of red hair fell around her muzzle, and she could not say it.

Made you Aquila? he prompted, speaking this evenly. Gave Inferni to you? Ithiel had suspected such. His half-brother was not what he'd been upon Ithiel's first arrival -- even one such as the dusky Praetorian could see that.

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#4
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(311)



Myrika is by Kiri!

The tawny-furred coyote gaped at her cousin in disbelief, anger slowly seeping into her features. Her ears lay flat against her head, and the red on her muzzle wrinkled as she showed him her teeth and the whites of her blue eyes. You knew he was doing that? she demanded of him, sitting upright in his bed. All the apprehension was gone -- had everyone known but her? Kaena hadn't seemed surprised in the least, and now Ithiel, too? It was more than she could take. Perhaps the entirety of Inferni knew, and she was just the last of many, the one they'd all kept the secret from.

No, my Aquila, he said lightly, the briefest smile touching his dark lips with those words and that title. I only guessed. I knew nothing for certain until just now. The anger faded, though not entirely, and she settled back down, heaving a sigh. It wasn't Ithiel she was angry with, nor even Zeke -- it was herself. She didn't know what to do -- what folly it was for Zeke to give the pack to her of all these coyotes.

Well. She shoved her hair back out of her face and threw her shoulders back, trying to look like the leader she now -- apparently -- was. It's done, I guess. There was turning back, of course -- she coudl always run, but she couldn't do that to Ezekiel, either. She'd agreed to lead, and now she must lead. She looked at her cousin plaintively. Ithiel, what do I do? she asked, quietly. What could she do? What if there were more wolves, more attacks? She was no battle commander. A thousand awful scenarios floated through her mind as she rode here, and now they reared up again, ugly tales of could-be destruction and utter failure on her part.

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#5
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(230)



Ithiel is by me!

She did not balk at the title. It seemed to pass her notice entirely, and Ithiel thought this was a good thing. She had not rejected the crown of Inferni. But she was looking to him for leadership, all the same, asking him what she ought to do. The dusky-furred hybrid shook his head, smiling once more at her. She needed smiles just now, and Ithiel was not incapable of them. When they were needed, he could summon them quite easily, actually; the dust-furred Praetorian simply preferred to keep them off his face most of the time.

You are the leader. It's not for me or anyone else to tell you what to do anymore, the dark-furred hybrid said, albeit gently. He reached out and offered his hand to her. I am yours, as I was Ezekiel's, he said, once she'd extended her hand to take his. Whatever you do, you have my support. Perhaps that was all his cousin needed. Ithiel meant it well, of course -- he did not say such things lightly, and always kept his word -- but he did not know what to do to comfort her. Part of him thought she ought not need comfort, but she was a woman and the weaker sex. Let her have her moment, he told himself, the pale white tip of his tail flickering.

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#6
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(256)



Myrika is by Kiri!

Even before he spoke the words, she knew what they would be. She was not asking to be told what to do -- not really, anyway. Maybe a little. The redhead sighed and laid both her ears back. When he extended his hand, she gave hers to him and listened to his words with half-mast ears. The words were spoken plainly, but they seemed to ring within her, too. Ithiel was hers? She'd seen his ways when they were equal of rank, but now that she'd ascended him, he would not challenge her? She considered this even as she let her hand drop back to her thigh, frowning.

Why do you accept me so readily? Not everyone will, I think, she confided, thinking tumult that must follow a change of the guard. You could fight me for the right to lead and I would lose, she said. She also thought Ithiel might have more rights to the leadership than she herself. You're Gabriel's son, too. I'm the daughter of someone who hasn't lived in Inferni for years, she pointed out, thinking of her mother for the first time in a long time. She was supposed to have found her, but instead, she'd found -- what? Twenty cousins and several nieces, nephews, second cousins, her grandmother, Ithiel -- and Vesper, and Vesper, and Vesper. Though guilt twinged somewhere, it was a small thing and passed quickly -- she could not spend her life chasing ghosts when the living burned so brightly beside her.

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#7
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(227)



Ithiel is by Raze!

Ithiel pulled his hand back and straightened, cocking his head at her words. He made a strange face, then, one he was not accustomed to making, and looked at her with bloody red eyes. Do you think I'm any sort of leader? he asked, bluntly. I don't. He brushed his fingers against the cross at his chest, shaking his head. God gave me the ability to fight, the ability to scout and track and ride, but he did not grant me the mind to lead. It's not my place. He knew this deep within his bones; it was obvious to Ithiel himself, and he thought it was the same for Myrika -- she was just in denial, weak as it was.

I could fight you, and you would lose, but that is not what I want, nor what my brother wanted. And, I think if my father was here, he would agree with me. Ithiel had never met Gabriel, but he was certain of the man's sound mind and good judgement. Gabriel would see, he knew. You're Kaena's grandchild, same as the rest of us. It's all the same blood, he said, rolling dark-tinged shoulders in a shrug. Ezekiel picked you, and now... you know what comes now, he said, offering her another one of those brief and small smiles.

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#8
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(234)



Myrika is by Kiri!

He was right, she knew. He was not a leader. Ithiel was a soldier, and an excellent one at that, but he would drive Inferni to the ground, too. No wolves passing within a mile of their borders would be safe -- the dust-furred coyote might well move them all up and into the mountains, tucking them in some tiny, secluded valley as the Boreas wolves had done. The redhead smiled briefly at the thought, the white tips of her teeth showing. It was a very tired smile -- though she could call herself an Aquila for no longer a period than an hour, already the burden settled heavily against her shoulders and back.

And now, I lead, she said for him, looking at him with bright blue eyes. Ithiel nodded his agreement, and Myrika looked to the pelt rug again, the neatly stacked arsenal of arrows, the orderly folds of a beaten leather cloak. She shuffled to the edge of the bed and looked back toward Ithiel. I'm going to see Vesper, she said. I'll call for everyone when we're done. The redhead hesitated after standing, and half-turned back toward him. Go and get Kaena, bring her to the D'Neville's yard. It was a command, and her first. Ithiel showed a tooth in a smile at that, perhaps the closest he ever came to a grin, and nodded.

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