legacy

Ezekiel de le Poer · 01-27-2012, 01:39 AM

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(946)ogawd sosu I will kill you.

The motion of the horse under him was one that his legs and body read the movement of the compact and heavily muscled animal below him. There was no doubt in him that the horse would serve his duty well one day; he had watched the stallion chase off a lone horse that had come too close to the clan’s territory while he was free roaming. Observations of the horses had shown him they quickly recognized the natural border formed by the canine’s scents; within them was food and shelter. Spring too would give the horses reason to be alert and linger closer to their home—Eira was with foal, Merab now presently so, and he was almost convinced that Oblak was as well. He considered approaching his half-brother about the big mare. By spring, he would sort things out. Horses were not his true calling, though Ezekiel tried to do what he could without education.

Ibsen shifted on the back of the chestnut horse, and the Aquila studied his cousin carefully. She was very tall, even seated. Her face was familiar but not incredibly so—all Lykoi looked alike—and she was sharp and edged like a true coyote. If not for her unusual and incredible height she might have resembled such a thing. Ezekiel himself showed hints of the heritage given to him from Gabriel; his face was pointed and sharp but his body compact and broad like a dog. His own height was diminutive compared to the majority of his family and certainly any wolf, but his mettle made up for it. Ezekiel had never run from a fight, even though it had once nearly cost him his life. This foolish bravery was something that his father had sworn would kill him.

The golden coyote smiled at her babbling, noting she caught herself this time. While he was proud of her for speaking so plainly, the fact she had recognized it meant she might be less likely to do so in less friendly areas of the world. “Halo has been here since after the first war, I think. Enkiel came not long after her. Neither have left,” he added with a snort, shaking his head lightly. “Not like your leader, here—I left twice chasing that sister of mine, and look where that got me.”

A shadow crossed over his face, suggesting talk of Talitha was unwelcomed. He closed his eyes, allowing Viggo to choose his own path. “I came home a little over two seasons after being sent away. My father and uncle trained me some, as did my aunt—she more in healing then combat. Hybrid was never really a big part of my lessons, though. Most of it was on my own; archery was virtually unique when I came home.” He recalled the first target he had set up, and the meeting with the peculiar wolf that had claimed a blood relation to him.

“You know,” he added, a cawing laugh escaping his throat. “I found Zana on our beach one day. Imagine that—she was even smaller then. Didn’t know anything about her except she was a Lykoi. I still don’t know who her father is…”

The blonde felt Viggo shift under him, turning to take a gentle slope downwards. Soon enough the land would open up, and then they would be able to send Ibsen out to scout. That would certain make things easier. Having been too young to remember the landscape and would use the raven to navigate them. While he had no doubt Kaena was sharp, he wasn’t sure how much someone her age would really remember. Any scent markings would have been gone since the fire and blizzard and the untold dramas enacted by the landscape without their packs within it.

“My father led Inferni since before the fire; he found a cousin here, Anselm—while the wolves were looking for homes blindly we had someone who knew this place. He ended up leaving at some point, and in the spring his daughter, Ryan, took up the role of Optio. We had some issues with another wolf pack at that time—Phoenix Valley. Some wolf kept crossing our borders; turned out he and Ryan were having an affair,” he added, thinking of the confirmation of this story by Zana’s tiny nephew.

Suddenly, his entire body stiffened. Viggo jerked his head up sharply, whinnied, and halted. The Aquila loosened his muscles enough to urge the horse on, kneeing him gingerly. He lowered his head, rubbed one hand across his face, and felt the scars over his left eye with worn hands. “A wolf nearly killed me, then. Tried to take out this eye,” he motioned to the scars, letting his hand fall back to Viggo’s bright mane. The color of his hand nearly matched the shade of the stallion. Dried blood. “He broke three ribs. It took me two months to recover.”

He looked up, eyeing the pass. They were out of the canyon now, and the horses began to spread out. Ibsen rose, stretching out his wings. With a gesture from the Aquila he took to the air, sought a thermal, and rode it. “We’ll keep heading west; if he sees anything he’ll come back,” Ezekiel commented to the women, glancing between the two.

His gaze settled onto Myrika again. “That’s when I left. Talitha had gone off again, and I tried to find her. Wound up making my way all the way to a placed called Baker Lake—there’s a lot of land up north, a lot of forest,” he paused, then laughed again. “And now I’m rambling. You asked about Inferni, not me.”

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