03-10-2009, 01:54 PM
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Both ears stood upright as she laughed, nearly surprised by the sound. It was familiar to rain, to a raven’s voice; a peculiar mixture of the two that was not unpleasant. Then she settled and he relaxed, no longer concerned that she might turn on him as he had been taught to expect. Ezekiel listened and watched her, still amazed that he had encountered such a creature, and only moved slightly when she approached.
Her scents were ash and water, and the overwhelming mark of the pack he had been taught to see as a threat. She offered him no present danger, but he knew in his secret heart she would not hesitate to cut him down if they met in battle. Sharply, he turned his head and studied the ruined mountainside. “I think it’ll be like spring,” or at least, what he could remember of it. For a moment he was quiet, then suddenly recalled his manners, turning his face to her. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you, Cwmfen,” He repeated her name carefully, intent on not shattering the pronunciation. “I’m Ezekiel de le Poer. Apprentice warrior and medic, I suppose.” A boyish smile lit up his face, glad for pleasant company. Even though Tristan had never spoken favorably of her people, Ezekiel was reminded of the man in the way Cwmfen held herself and behaved. [/html]