There were still aspects of his life that were not flushed out. Ezekiel had never really made any tight friends, believing his place would never be permanent. His pride had led to many an unnecessary fight here and there. His strongest bonds were those to his russet sister and an aging raven. Yet he was happy with this life, living purely for the moment and focusing on himself alone. Inferni had not yet wound itself back into his bones, though Ezekiel knew the power of heredity and knew that he was bound to this place.
Ezekiel cast a glance to the raven, happily eating the exposed remains of the deer, and then back to his sister. “He asked me to take his book. Did you know he picked his name after a human?” The coyote began to head out of the forest, content his sister would follow. “I found a book when I was traveling that had his name on it so I brought it back.” He had read it too. While he did not do so during the days, often at night Ezekiel would devour books with as much hunger as he did food. He had made a point to ask his father for some, and had intentions of raiding the city in the south as soon as the weather turned. Only a few remained in his bag—a bible, Faustus, and The House of the Wolf. He had been disappointed when it had not been about wolves themselves, but found the humans ideas about werewolves somewhat intriguing.
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