I'm not about to give thanks or apologize.

[Ezekiel de le Poer]

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     He was still a golden boy, still smiling and still laughing at the world as if it was not such a wicked place. The scars on his face had half-healed, leaving only two deep indications that he had ever known pain. One would not suspect there had ever been suffering in his life outside of this. One would never suspect the terrible things he had seen and suffered. Ezekiel was in this way perhaps more dangerous than his father.

She felt thin, but the scent of Inferni was not fully laden in her pelt yet. He imagined something sharp and sweet but did not identify it for the short time he lingered that close to her. Instead he shifted his weight back and pulled at the string of the bow across his chest—the other two were not uncomfortable, having been worn for years now. Ezekiel continued to smile, though he had release the girl close to tears and knew they would come if he so allowed them to. “No sense in apologizing for things we can’t control,” he offered in that now deeper voice, though it still floated much higher than their gruff father.

Yet as Talitha made no move to summon Gabriel, the blonde’s eyes hardened for only a moment. Had something happened between them? It was gone as suddenly as it had come, and Ezekiel let out a coyote-like call. After a long pause, a wolfish one answered. The young man chuckled. “Sounds like he’s too far to run all the way up here. Do you want me to wait for you before I go find him?”

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