05-28-2009, 01:19 PM
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The raven was perched on one of the large boulders that remained scattered amongst the plains of the Waste. Ezekiel had been watching the bird for what felt like hours, stretched out in the tall grass. Marlowe was busy tearing apart some sort of carcass, and cared little for the attention he had gained from the Hastati. Exhaling heavily and rolling onto his back, the blonde boy put his hands behind his head. It was a clear day, but puffy white clouds cut across his vision as they passed in a slow, occasional breeze.
Despite the warm day and beautiful weather, Ezekiel’s eyes were dark. He had been replaying the battle that had broken his ribs and scarred his face for the past two months. His father had explained what Cwmfen had told him, but the fault had been his alone. It was stupid to have been caught off guard. Behind him, Marlowe let out a sudden noise, a wordless warning, and took to the air. Ezekiel rolled over and sat up, bangs flopping into his face as he sought the source of the disturbance. [/html]