03-17-2009, 01:12 PM
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There were several things that Ezekiel knew, even at this age. He knew that his father’s name would always carry something above his head. He knew that as long as he looked like a coyote he would be treated like the enemy. He knew that in the past he had done things that were wrong, but they were right to him and so he believed in them. Instinct and God had kept him alive; training and discipline kept him from showing the scars he knew one day he would more then likely gain.
He was young, and he was still very much inexperienced. He believed in manifest destiny as much as he did the wrath and vengeance of the Lord. “Gabriel is my father,” the boy answered. A bird crossed his line of sight and he followed it with his eyes, curious as to the lone vision against the sky. Her words pulled his thoughts back and he smiled nearly sheepishly. Pride, while he felt this, was still dangerous. It was very dangerous, in fact. “I’m not that far along. I came back home and had to cut my training short, so I try and keep up with it on my own.” His father, additionally, was assisting him—but even now Ezekiel believed in paranoid times.
“Sparring would be fun,” he continued, grinning like a tow-headed boy might before going to war. “You’d whup me, I’m sure, but it would be fun.” [/html]