08-10-2009, 08:31 AM
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The rain had been all consuming, and overwhelmed all of his senses. So when the scarred cyclops appeared in-front of him, Ezekiel’s hackles rose in a sign of defensive aggression. He did not fear her, though. Fear had been a useless emotion and it did not belong to soldiers. It was her single remaining eye that kept him silent—he recognized the color as his father’s, and in turn his own. Both ears swiveled forward at her gravelly voice, and he tried to recall the stories his father had told him as a child about the woman that had to be his grandmother.
Even though she did not know him, she knew that Inferni was his place. The boy lifted his voice over the pounding rain. “I left,” he said flatly. “I’m no better then the others.” By this he meant those who had come and gone like tumbleweeds and summer storms. The useless and worthless coyotes that had never deserved to call Inferni their home.
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