I suck too. ;-;
He had read the stories of the book, found names he recognized and identified with. His father was not simply an angel, but the angel. God’s Sword, his Scourge. Such a name fitted with his gruff father, with whom the gold-bronze coyote looked on with the same hero worship as his sister. Flicking an ear at her question, he recalled the stories told in that particular chapter. “The Ezekiel in this book was a prophet—he met God, and had a vision that this city called Jerusalem would be destroyed,” he explained. Such things seemed a little silly to him, but it was a story that he figured his father had enjoyed.
“If you want you can have that one,” he went on, trudging through the snow as they neared the caves. They reached his den not long after, and Ezekiel put the hide down outside of the cave entrance. “There’s some dry wood in there, so we can start a fire in that pit.” He pointed to a small circle of stones that was slightly dug out. “There’s apparently a lot of ways you can cook meat but I don’t know all of them. I’ll show you the way I do it though.”
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