09-04-2009, 11:06 AM
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Like the wolves of Dahlia de Mai, Ezekiel had become accustomed to the metal traps that so often reared their heads. Once he had nearly got his leg taken off, and once was enough. Since then he had walked softly and kept his eyes open. This was in no small part due to the fact that his patterns were becoming nearly regular; he found wolves at nearly every turn and had to make himself remarkably scarce. It irritated him he had still not seen her, but he supposed that the reason for that was more legitimate then not. For whatever else he was, Zeke was no fool and knew better than to cross the Dahlian line to look for her.
Friend or not, he had no doubt Cwmfen would abide by her duties. Which, he was pleased to find, she was doing currently. The scent washed towards him over the cool air and like a child his tail began to wag furiously behind him. Trotting forward, he made himself obvious and began looking for the woad-painted woman. Had he been bolder he might have called for her, but he did not trust the borders of the territory that much. Instead he used his body and caused a small ruckus as he advanced, amber eyes looking for any sort of movement. [/html]