blood bound
#6
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Having spent most of his youth raised by mostly-wolf hybrids, he had been startled to see even they dealt with the racism of wolves. Fatin and Tristan both shared red-wolf blood, and this had often been mistaken for coyote despite the burly male’s size. Such differences were so small to him then, but Ezekiel had been quick to learn that instinctively and by upbringing many beasts could not let go of the shadows and hatred for things different. Perhaps it was something they would always live with.

A thin smile crossed his face, a peculiar thing that did not meet his eyes. Yet before he could speak of the wolf pack to the north, unexpected news came regarding his uncle’s home. This time a clear reaction occurred; his ears flared high, eyes widened, and he stiffened slightly. It did not surprise him that Razekiel might simply vanish as he had before, but the cow-spotted she wolf hardly seemed the type. What had happened to drive both of them away?

He frowned and reached for a Luperci-made wooden bowl. Ezekiel poured a generous amount of tea into this and held it in his lap. “My uncle,” he began, thinking over his words. “Had a habit for disappearing. We thought he was dead after last winter. I can imagine him doing the same…but Naryu,” he recalled her name, familiar with it from the days of Dahlia. “It surprises me that she would leave.”

Satisfied that the steaming water had cooled some, he lapped at it gingerly. The warmth trailed down his throat, but the effects of the tea would not be felt for several long moments. “Do you want some?” He asked suddenly, amber eyes shifting to the scarred woman. “It helps to ease the body.” A pause came before he shifted his weight on the padded hide and sighed. “Tell me about this new leader, if you would.”

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