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Ithiel is by me!
The dusky-furred coyote reclined on his stone bed, nestled into the furs piled there to keep it comfortable. Zedekiah hunkered in the entrance to his cave, occasionally muttering a word or a grunt in his sleep. The closer of the two oil lanterns burned brightly to light his reading. He knew these passages well and could quote many of them, but he read this book each morning when he rose and each night before he slept all the same. He stretched the sleep out of his body as he finished his passage and shut the book. The noise woke Zedekiah, who muttered what sounded distinctively like a curse.
Ithiel swung both legs over the side of his stone bed and walked over the pelt in the center of his cave, moving to strap the leather vest he customarily wore to it. The quiver was next, followed by the sword belt and the sword. In all likelihood, he would not need a single weapon today -- most days, he did not need a weapon, after all -- but Ithiel never left unprepared, all the same. Stone-faced, he gathered up saddle and bridle, reins and rope, and moved out of his cave.
Lystra whickered a greeting from where he'd tied her the previous night, and the dark-furred hybrid carried her saddle over to her, strapping it along her back quickly. The reins were next. He wanted to get moving -- he'd already overslept and lingered too long in bed. The morning sun approached ten now, and Ithiel didn't want to ride too long during the hottest parts of the day. He was still buckling the saddle to Lystra's back when the sound of horse -- and moving fast -- made him whirl about, red eyes wide with remembrance of the charging wolves and their great beast-horses.
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