Sorry for the delay! Word Count »
For Enkiel, it was surprising to run into strangers. He had spent many months in the clan (years, soon) and he had kept to himself for the most part. His cousins and Sa’adat had been the few people the jackal had warmed up to, and even that was pushing it. Warmth from Enkiel was like that of the crocodile whom he called kin. Fall’s encroaching weather meant that he had taken up his woolen mantel, traveling with the gray colored poncho while he went about his duties. The greenhouse served to host most plants, but some bushes grew best in the wild.
He was returning from such an expedition when the sight of a woman caused him to slow. She was a coyote, without a doubt—but large for the breed in the way that Ezekiel and Talitha were. Picking up his pace once more, the grayscale healer approached without fear. “What is it you require?” His deep voice called out, a surprising thing for his otherwise small stature. Sangria colored eyes turned over the weapons, immediately wondering as to her skills with them.
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