08-14-2009, 02:46 PM
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The history of the Lykoi family was one that Ezekiel only knew as far back as the woman before him. Gabriel had not explained anything further—and likely, did not know. Even his father’s past was one that seemed shrouded in the fog of war. A few of the scars had stories that he knew, but many did not. Still, in spite of this (or perhaps because of it), Ezekiel had taken up the helm and the spear of Inferni proudly. The fact that two of his teachers had been wolves did not cast doubt upon his loyalty. Tristan was partially coyote, and Cwmfen was accepted by his father. This fact pleased him; he no longer found the need to hide her presence. Not that he had seen the woad-painted warrior in months, but still.
His grandmother’s approval of Gabriel’s decision made a terrible shadow cross Ezekiel’s face—it warped him into a vicious monster, scarred eye turning his exterior brutal and savage. “He should have done a better job at protecting Talitha then. I should have done a better job at protecting her.” When she had run off with Faolin, Ezekiel had been helpless to stop her. The same thing occurred again, and it made anger boil in his chest and make a low growl rumble from there. [/html]