[M] I threw us into the flames

Ezekiel de le Poer · 06-28-2012, 02:53 AM

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Inferni had never been his true home. It had been a place spoken of, a place he knew only through memory and language. His home was a land of wild woods and deep winters, where only the strong survived. His home was isolation and the madness that came with such a thing. So in many ways, Inferni, though it had been his kingdom, was a strange land. He felt no kinship to that place now, and he had not since the time had returned. All of these things fell from his shoulders like a terrible weight, shed off in the grasping tendrils of blackened boughs and reaching thistles.

Yet because he was a man of such wilderness, and because it was familiar to him, he moved through this night and this landscape as if it was familiar. His pelt was not made for such night and each moonbeam glinted off of it like a flash of gold, glistening in the night. He might have been betrayed for this, but he did not fear the night’s betrayal. Ahead of him a prize waited, and Ezekiel trailed it patiently.

Ahead the trees parted. The coyote stilled to admire the King; he was a sight, dark and wild and still. A wolfish, greedy smile parted his jaws and allowed the tips of ivory teeth to gleam in the night. Without fear Ezekiel advanced from his hiding place, walking not with the bold and brash steps of a king, but the soft and well-worn pace of a man who had spent eons in the wilderness. His eyes glistened in the night like twin suns. “It takes all the fun out of this,” he said, his voice roughened as it had not been before the war and before the wound to his throat. “Chasing someone that wants to be caught.”

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