praying to the wrong piece of wood

Ithiel de le Poer · 02-11-2012, 03:42 AM

[html]

(304)

Ithiel is by me!

The dark coyote hesitated, peering on his brother with a strange disappointment reflecting faintly across his features. Ithiel had the good sense to shake his head slowly in response to Aemon's questions, considering them carefully before providing a verbal answer. The dusky coyote grimaced in response to the last two questions, his countenance becoming even more grim with the subject of their father Gabriel. His hand withdrew from his brother's shoulder to stroke at his chin during his consideration. He wished to answer each of his silvery sibling's questions, and he would do so as diligently as possible.

I did not think to ask of Gabriel. He seemed lost; it did not appear he had purpose in being in Inferni. Cour des Miracles must be one of the packs a day's ride south, though which, I am not sure, the dust-colored man confessed. He had ridden south shortly after arriving in Inferni, but this did not mean he could lay a name at the feet of one of those scent-borders. I was given no information about this pack, though, the man said, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. The revelation... brothers, Ithiel said, for once his confident speech faltering. It shocked me, he finished, putting up two palms in a helpless gesture toward his brother.

Why must we go south, Aemon? He is a wolf, he'll know no more than Ezekiel, the granite-colored coyote said, his displeasure at the idea of interacting with wolves for something they needed apparent. Why would Gabriel tell his wolf-children his destination, and not his heir? Ithiel spoke, of course, of Ezekiel. Gabriel had bequeathed leadership to the most capable of Inferni, his son, and the dynasty continued -- a dynasty Ithiel would take no part in.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?