Did you pick a date for this yet?
The style of leadership to which Ezekiel performed was one that allowed for slips. Had he known the extent of his Hydra’s dealing with the dog-bitch, he might have killed the slave on the spot. Other things forced his mind to go elsewhere, and to not pay attention to issues of minor concern. Only blood now occupied his mind, and it was blood that had been spilled by strange men. Enkiel had given him a detailed report on the damage and suggested that Ibsen remain near the Mansion to serve as extra eyes. This was agreeable to the Aquila.
Since then he had avoided the buildings, circling through the woods on his own two feet. Ezekiel’s talent as a tracker was unmistakable. He moved low to the ground, following signs both obvious and hidden. A broken branch here or there, a scrap of fur. The wolves had done well to hide themselves. It was not the mark of a coward, but of tactic and planning. Salsola did much the same, and his thoughts turned dark at the idea.
When he had satisfied his curiosity the Aquila trailed back to the plains of the Waste, heading westward. Night would mean another patrol, and he intended to rest at least briefly before doing such a thing.
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