there is a sickness in the roses

Ezekiel de le Poer · 07-01-2011, 11:16 AM

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A mass exodus had not gone unnoticed by Inferni. Ezekiel had seen several strange figures climbing the mountain, which would not be so odd if not for the fact that they traveled in groups. Ibsen had been sent to scout, and his report was unwelcomed; wolves moving to live across the mountain. He had roughly tried to explain their colors and shapes, but Ezekiel had little knowledge of the wolves and recognized only one description—a white wolf spotted with black.

So he had gone south, traveling with the horse. What he had found both pleased and worried him. Dahlia was gone. While their scents remained strong, no one had stopped the coyote from encroaching into the land. No one had come when he had wandered through empty land and found nothing. So Dahlia had gone, it seemed. His father would certainly be pleased. The Aquila had found little of interest in the abandoned forest, and so he had returned to the Waste.

Now, though, he had begun riding west. He intended to scout this unfamiliar pack, for while he was now certain Dahlia de Mai made up its heart, other scents were mingled in with it. Viggo’s pace was easy, for Ezekiel was eyeballing the mountain as he went. Ibsen had been sent ahead to listen, but he was given strict orders not to come to Ezekiel until they returned to Inferni. Armed as always, Ezekiel was certain his presence (if spotted) would be seen as threatening. With any luck, he would go unnoticed.

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