I want to have faith to put away the dagger

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-08-2012, 01:00 AM

[html]

(434)

Ithiel is by me!

The late afternoon sun beat down on Ithiel as he sat just outside of his cave. His knife worked furiously at the sticks he'd collected -- sturdy wood, already mostly straight. The dusky coyote needed only carve the knots and bumps from the wood and affix an arrowhead and feathers, and he would have an arrow. Zedekiah floated somewhere in the sky above. Ithiel did not allow the vulture much rest anymore: when the sky was bright, the big bird circled up above. This meant more treats, however, and Zedekiah took the added strain in stride.

Unease bloomed somewhere in his chest as a cry rose through the air -- a cry meant for him. The dust-colored coyote stood, listening to the call as it rose and then fell into silence. He determined his brother's approximate position, but bent to grab his own bow and quiver as he did so. The first attack left him mostly unscathed but for a few bruises, stiffness, and one good slice across his thigh. This was thanks to his indirect engagement of the attackers. Fighting with arrows from horseback was not cowardly, simply smart -- Ithiel was not as good a melee fighter as he was a shooter, and in drawing the big wolf away from the mansion and his fellow Infernians, perhaps he had saved them bruises and battering. The second attack had been more brutal, and Ithiel bore the markings of it.

The dusky coyote did not bother with his own horse -- Lystra had suffered worse than Ithiel. Her shoulder had been cut by one of the big wolf's swords, a glancing blow that might have removed her leg if it had been truer. Myrika tended the animal, as far as Ithiel knew -- should he need a horse in the coming weeks, the Bairre horse or even one of his cousin's two mounts might serve. Ithiel had discussed the invasion with no one, for he had nothing new to share -- or so he assumed.

His long Optime legs stretched into a trot, his stride lengthening as he headed toward the source of the call. These were the outskirts of Inferni's territory, but the land was flat and barren here -- easy to see an attacker coming a long time away. They were very much unlike the thick Dampwoods in that regard. The dusky man's pace slowed as he approached his Aquila, and Ithiel dipped his head forward, mouth set into a thin line. He did not understand why he'd been summoned here, to this particular place, but he didn't need to understand, after all -- he was meant to receive orders, it seemed, and this he comprehended perfectly well.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?