like water off the mountains

Ezekiel de le Poer · 02-19-2012, 02:24 PM

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It was rare that Ezekiel ended a day before true dark, and he was glad this was an exception. He had taken an early patrol and given himself enough time to finish by the afternoon. Viggo and Oblak had both gotten a good rub-down, and he had mixed up the seed and grains fed to them. Being larger animals, they required more food—he had gathered most of it himself, and stored it in sacks separate from the majority of the clan’s supplies. Since gathering Oblak he had been shuffling the horses around, though by spring he intended to fully settle them in with Myrika.

He had gone hunting as soon as he had finished, and bagged a fat grouse with a well-timed shot. With this in hand, he moved towards the caves. It was as he advanced that he spotted Ithiel and his companion. The dusky coyote was still much a stranger to him; both boys hardly resembled their father and took after the woman who had birthed them in color. Ezekiel and his sister had been similar, though she varied more towards Faolin’s coat and color than he.

As he neared the younger man, he caught the scent of wood and feathers and knew what sort of project his half-brother had been working on. “Ithiel,” he greeted, the dead grouse hanging limply from his right hand.

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