[p] born on snake hill
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(434) tl;dr -- Ithiel be on a strawberry roan horse, talks to his vulture, sends him back to Inferni.



Ithiel is by me!

Ithiel's crimson eyes scanned the expanse of the marshes, but saw nothing. His nose twitched, and he inhaled deeply of the pre-dusk scents. Spring hung heavily in the air, pollen and nectar and all sorts of sweetness tinging the winds, but little else caught the dusky coyote's attention. His ears listened, waiting for the noises of charging horses or even the quiet snap of a twig as some careless would-be assassin made himself known. Nothing happened.

And so it had been for some time. This was frustrating to the dark coyote. He wanted to see and face his foes then and there, and perhaps this was why he had deviated (however slightly) from instructions, striking it out on his own in attempt to find whatever secret lairs their foes kept. He had no idea where to begin looking and, predictably, his efforts were thus far completely fruitless. The Caelum had seen neither hide nor hair of the contingent of wolf attackers -- not so much as a wisp of a scent.

Bairre moved beneath him, for Lystra was still wounded. It was healed enough to ride her without consequence, but Ithiel did not like the thought of riding a wounded horse that was not too fast on her feet even when uninjured. He might need to retreat quickly into Inferni, and so he had taken the strawberry roan horse. Friendly as he was, the sure-footed equine was equally as fast, and he could quickly carry the drab coyote back to Inferni, should he encounter undue trouble.

Perhaps he had gone the wrong way altogether -- perhaps he should have gone east, to the sea. The western lands were easier to secure, however -- there was only so much space before the land narrowed, and Ithiel did not think their attackers were crossing the isthmus from the mainland. At first, yes, but they were encamped somewhere now. Now, Ithiel was almost certain the wolves were to the east or south of Inferni -- somewhere within the peninsula. He was not certain whether to feel relieved or worried about this.

Zedekiah swooped low, startling the coyote, but he moved his arm up to catch the deadly-sharp talons of the vulture. They sank deep into the leather and Ithiel grimaced from the impact, which had rattled his very bones and shaken old wounds. The vulture murmured his lack of news, and Ithiel offered a piece of meat, instructing the creature to return to Inferni. He would return, in due time, too, but not yet. Night was coming, and night might offer a more productive search.

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