quite eradicated
The journey to the old lands had only taken a few hours, and kept them there for a long day. Coming back had been harder, traveling through fresh fallen snow, but Viggo’s sheer mass allowed for paths to be made. Ezekiel was grateful for the stallion’s size, and upon their return this morning, sent him and Oblak off to rest. As a free-roaming herd within the clan’s boundaries, there was little for them to fear. The horses were smart enough to recognize the borders and linger within them, for their own scents marked such lands and thus as much as they belonged to the coyotes, they belonged to the horses.
Myrika had ridden off with the loose horses trailing behind her, perhaps eager for Eira to join them, and Ezekiel had seen that Kaena was settled. While age had indeed crept up on her, the old woman was hardly any less fiery than a yearling. A part of him suspected that if he were to abandon the clan she herself would claim his title and be welcomed back for it. Some odd sense of respect was still held for the grandmother by all her descendents…especially now that she was a great-grandmother again, as he had come to realize was the case.
Ezekiel had left the building through the kitchen, intending on meeting with Enkiel for an update regarding the various members who had come to the medic with issues. He was cut short by an all too familiar shape, and slowed.
While they quite resembled each other in build and strength, the shift of color between them was a stark one. Ezekiel was golden and bronze, the color of the sun, of metal…and she was a reddish-brown of blood, of earth. Once, they had been equals. Not now, though. He kept himself carefully indifferent to her around meetings, around other clansmen. Only the incident with Cypress had been a slip, but his mood had been quite foul that day and she an easy target. Halo received no quarter from him; it was by his hand alone she yet lived, and he had never let her forget such a thing. It was a double-edged blade, of course. He kept a dragon tethered by keeping her alive. One day, she would turn on him again. He would be ready.
The Aquila advanced easily, no fear present in him. She would not strike now, not with others so close. In public, they had an understanding. A set of amber eyes narrowed, however, upon seeing her pelt. Halo never looked half so disheveled. It was not in her nature, for she was a beast of pride. So what…
Helotes? The scent clung to her fiercely, and he was the only male perhaps capable of besting the woman in combat besides himself. Had they truly been training with such ferocity? He and Max, and even Vesper, often practiced in such manners, but not with the intent to draw blood. There was no need; it only served to slow progress. The Aquila closed the distance between them and eyed her wounds with a frown. “Training, eh?” His gaze drifted towards her own. While it was not a challenge of dominance, his wolfish blood always implied such things. Coyotes were less demanding of such submission, as long as their own internal rules were followed.
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