the faith you prove

Ezekiel de le Poer · 03-24-2011, 12:36 AM

[html]

Ezekiel was a man made up of ghosts. Heredity was carried through his very essence, wrapped in sinew and blood and bone. Wolf and coyote had given him instincts to survive alone, but his body reflected the latter far clearer. No one would mistake him for a wolf, as they did with his father. Though he did not despise his cousin-creatures, Ezekiel had been dealt cruelty by them firsthand.

The young man barely had time to register her response when Nana began moving. Her son whinnied and picked up a similar pace, much to Ezekiel’s dismay. He wrapped his fingers into the thick mane of the stallion and tried frantically to recall what he had been told about horses. His legs tightened their grip, and he leaned forward to hold tighter—which told the colt only that he wished to go faster. Heavy hooves tore up still-soft earth as he shot after his mother, muscles bulging under his winter pelt.

Adrenaline rushed through the boy, but it was in a way he understood. Riding like this was similar to fighting, in its own way. He could feel the motion of his mount behind him, read the desire and joy in his body, and finally his own tension slipped away. By comparing it to something he knew already, his muscle memory refocused and began to learn again. Both hands remained locked in the thick mane, forgoing the rope that was draped across his lap. Ezekiel had never experienced something comparable to riding like this, and the expression on his face showed nothing less.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?