blood bound

Ezekiel de le Poer · 03-02-2012, 11:12 AM

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Instinct was something Ezekiel understood far too well. He had learned to adapt, both within Inferni and outside of it, and so this two-fold face grew under his skin. The coyote was not a man that could fit himself into a singular objective—even now he undermined himself by planting seeds of doubt within his members. It would not matter for long, he reasoned, and so he continued on the path that he so intended.

He listened to her words, hands moving to a small pouch hanging from a large elk antler. As he removed the hot water from the fire he opened this leather bundle and dumped the contents into it. The scent of chamomile, valerian, lavender and tansy all rose from the steam as it stewed. The news of the wolf pack was not new, but it eased his nerves to know Vesper had also gone to investigate. A faint shadow crossed his eyes as her tone shifted, but it was subtle and did not last long.

“No, we aren’t,” he admitted, looking at her from across the low-burning fire. Ibsen had resumed his sleep, head tucked under one large wing. “Their alpha said that he only wished to speak with Myrika, so friend or not, you might want to avoid their borders.” He also wondered, briefly, if she might now consider this lifestyle as something to yearn for—the idea of another sub-leader abandoning him stung bitterly. “They don’t seem to like coyotes, from what I heard.”

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