08-08-2009, 07:59 PM
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A month ago, her scent had begun to fade. That was when he had taken off without a breath to anyone. Ezekiel had run hard and used all the skills he had been taught and gifted with, tracking his sister desperately. He had almost lost her once and would not do so again. Or so the boy had thought, right up until the rain started. Then it had rained; and rained hard. Any hope of tracking his dog-like siblings was lost once the floods had begun. There was no hope for finding her then—all trace of Talitha was washed away in the torrent of water.
It was still raining. The lanky youth (not fully grown into his frame, especially with the weeks on his own) crossed the southern borders and began to blindly make his way towards the forest. Instinctively he avoided going west or turning east too quickly. No part of the Hydra intended to face her empty room or his father. Not yet. Not with empty hands and nothing to show for his time. Ezekiel coughed loudly and sunk several inches in the muddy field, then struggled and pulled his leg out of the ground. More cautiously now, though moving as quickly as possible, the russet-marked coyote staggered to the tree line.
Once there, Ezekiel slipped between trees and over rocky ground. He wasn’t sure what he would find for cover, but there had to be something. Sure enough, after about ten minutes, a large hollowed out tree greeted him. Thankful for the lucky find, the scarred boy made his way inside, shook out what water he could from his fur, and sat down. His body posture alone sang of his disgruntled, spinning emotions. The golden-tan coyote shuddered against the cold air and sighed, folding his ears back. [/html]