a magician and a heritic

Ezekiel de le Poer · 02-22-2011, 07:52 PM

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Ezekiel had learned, but most of his talent was intuitive. He was a creature of instincts, tapping into the recesses of information that heredity had given him. Wolf and coyote flowed through his veins, each offering new and wonderful talents. Dominance grew from his grandfather’s blood, as Ezekiel believed that the right to rule was not earned but given at birth. The coyote told him how to scavenge and hide, to be fast and cunning. When he hunted he was an apex predator, using man-inspired weapons to take down animals he otherwise would not be able to. A wolf might kill a deer, but Ezekiel was mostly coyote—and while large for that breed, he was still smaller than any wolf he had met.

His sister offered to pick up the domestic half of the work, and while Ezekiel considered refusing, he was acutely aware of her desire to learn and to help. So he smiled that boyish thing that fell at odds with the scars over his eye. “Sure. Who knows, you might be better at it than me,” he added, winking at her. “If you want to help some more now, you could carry my things back while I carry this.” The deer hide, bulging with meat and such, was closed by its legs and hoisted across one shoulder onto his back. Near his feet, the bow, quiver and arrows, and bag still remained. Marlowe cawed again, which Ezekiel answered with an odd, rough sound not unlike the bird. He nudged the open book into his bag with a foot, shaking his head slightly.

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