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It had been strange to admit to her lack of hunting ability, but she had never truly needed to hunt in the past. In her youth, her parents provided for her. When they were sent away, she was with family who cared for her. Even this last disappearance had led her to the camp of the ages-old coyote male who had saved her from her own guilt, and Myron had never let her starve. Her weight was low, but it wasn't for lack of food offered. Though she couldn't catch her own without a difficult excursion, she was sure Cotl would have fed her if she asked. Or Gabriel. The latter may have even taught her how to hunt herself. No, she went hungry for the same reason she felt it necessary to waste away in a pool of liquor. She was undeserving of the gifts given to her. She had squandered her heritage by running away. Perhaps her beliefs were wrong, but they were firm. Lykoi blood, de le Poer blood. Outside of Inferni, they deserved death. Inferni was Mecca, holy land in the ruby gaze of the twiggy princess.
Her arms found their way about her brother's waist, resting up on his opposite shoulder comfortably, as his head tilted back into her gesture of affection. Inside of her mind, she wondered if Ezekiel missed his life alone while he stood there as her comforting rock, grounding her to the reality of the world that spread around them. A golden prince with his rusted princess, reigning over an invisible kingdom under the monstrous king. But Ezekiel didn't need her the way she needed him. He may have dragged home stray girls in the past, as their father had mentioned, but he had survived far better than she in running across the Canadian wilderness. While she had stagnated, he had flourished. While she had withered, he had blossomed. They had changed from their youth, so different now than they were before.
He'd catch some rabbits, and she'd get to help. The thought made her smile. Helping was all she had managed to remain good at. She could take direction well, but autonomy was difficult. Doing things on her own usually ended with empty bottles of whiskey found in Halifax, and a russet Lykoi who couldn't stand properly. Around Ezekiel, it was easy to forget the problems that had arose from their childhood. With Ezekiel, she was free to admit her flaws. She didn't fear the rejection she worried so often about when it came to Gabriel or Inferni itself.
"Tell me a story, Zekie." Her voice had retreated to the whispered state it held when interacting with other packmates, but laced with it was gentle innocence that was rare to see in the coy-mutt. She didn't have her own stories to share, but she could make one up if he really wanted one in return. For the moment, she just wondered what he had done with himself without her, and who he had met in the process.
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