we last because we're colorful

Ezekiel de le Poer · 05-08-2011, 11:27 AM

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With their gossamer feathers and too-intelligent eyes, the ravens were odd things in comparison to coyotes and dogs. They walked with bobbing, jerky steps, and tilted their heads in strange ways to better view the world. Ezekiel had become used to such things. He was used to many intelligent animals, like the selective birds, and found their company welcoming. Vicious beasts, like the badger he had told his sister about and the wolverine on his back, they spoke too. The warrior had little patience for their gruff voices and often aggressive temperaments, though, so he stuck with the birds.

He only nodded at her outburst, as the often shy birds (well, shy enough) had taken the lead in the conversation. The coyote watched them with his wolfish eyes, observing much in the way any guardian might. Alaine gave her breed a name, which pleased the young man who had spent much time around her kind, and nodded once more at her title. While he had all but raised the boys, Ezekiel was not so presumptuous as to call himself their father. Marlowe had been a dear friend, and he missed him sorely.

Zola, still lower than the woman who called herself dog, bobbed his head as he tilted it this way and that to take her in. With pale fur that looked much softer than the coyote’s coat, he desired to touch it immensely. “He is our teacher as well,” the bird said slowly, using his slowly-growing grasp of high-speech as fluently as possible. “You called him another name,” Zola went on, looking up to the woman. “And used other words. I find that…” He paused, looked to Ezekiel and made a harsh sound. The coyote motioned with his hands, speaking as he did so. “Interesting. He finds your other language interesting.”

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