Years of living in the wild had given him a physique cut from the land itself. Learning to ride had been a quick, initially painful process that became easy once he practiced it. His legs had grown strong in the thigh with the wide girth of Viggo’s broad backside. Still, it was easier to ride the fat stallion than a smaller one—he couldn’t imagine jumping on Maschine or Fear, with their dainty frames and fiery tempers.
Like his encounter with Micah, Ezekiel didn’t have to struggle to recognize there was something bothering the younger male. So he offered him a plastic smile, amber eyes unmet by the look, and agreed to join his darker companion. Barrett suggested letting the horse graze but worried about his plants; Ezekiel alleviated this fear by speaking to the horse and telling him this. The whinnies and hand-gestures drew a perplexed gaze from the would-be-de le Poer, but Ezekiel ignored it and returned to High Speech quickly. “What’s eating you?” He asked as they entered the garage.
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