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Ithiel is by me!
The dust-colored coyote had no desire to work alongside these wolves and half-breed traitors. An aunt, half-aunt, or cousin -- something to that effect -- ruled in their neighboring pack, but Ithiel had heard nothing good of Salsola, and neither did he think particularly highly of them. They were wolves, through and through. This much was clear to him. Still -- Ezekiel clearly saw an advantage in their alliance. Ithiel had been commanded to do his duty, and this was therefore all he could do.
Shifting his arm closer to him, he brought Zedekiah nearly to his chest. The bird was heavy and awkward to hold. Muttering wordlessly, Zedekiah blinked a black eye at Ithiel and then looked to the sky. There was no longing in him -- though the dusty Praetorian had been taught birds were smart, he did not think Zedekiah was particularly bright. Vultures could not be as smart as hawks or even ravens, after all.
When the first Salsolian arrived, Ithiel gave him a quick appraisal and a nod of his head, appreciative of the man's brevity. The dog stood out most clearly in this one's blood, and Ithiel therefore found him more likeable than he might have a wolfish companion. The second to arrive seemed more coyote than wolf, and for this he was glad -- at least the pack had chosen to send them acceptable escorts.
Ithiel. The fool is correct, he said, sparing not so much as a glance toward Col. We know nothing. Perhaps we will by the time the sun sets, the hybrid said, shrugging. His red eyes followed Max and Col's departure, and he took only a moment to extend his arm, putting his heels into his horse to help the vulture launch into the air. Lystra snorted her excitement and Zedekiah's wings flapped once, twice, and he was in the air, beating furiously until he reached the open skies. There, he spread his massive wingspan and simply seemed to float upwards, riding invisible updrafts until he was little more than a blurred speck.
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