09-14-2009, 01:13 PM
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The terrible things that came to him in dreams were not her concern. Ezekiel knew terror, and he knew fear. He had not yet killed another. The chance had come, but it was not his to take. He knew that this was the final test for a soldier; to know his enemy by bathing in his blood. Certainly that day would come soon. Deep in his heat he sensed the need, the terrible thing that had passed from father to son over four generations of their family. It was inevitability. To have two clans born of blood and fire join with the sickness of his mother’s blood (and oh he knew this, for his uncle proved such daily) was much like a time bomb. Both he and his sister would suffer for it. Lord knew they had suffered enough all ready.
That was why his eyes burned with that terrible fire, even though he felt no ill towards her. One day they would perhaps meet as equals. Perhaps he would know her as a warrior, as he desired to do so. Perhaps she would grant him her mark, as her father had. Perhaps he would do the same to her, and know that they had met as equals. It would be glorious. For months now, the threat of his own mortality had become a fading thing. “I knew you intended to go after him,” he said, not needing to name the demon. “I hadn’t heard from you.” He had thought she might have died, as he thought with his sister. But as his thoughts about Talitha had changed, so had his assumptions in regards to the woad-banded warrior.
Two children, even though they were different—the curious statement meant something, but what it was he did not know. Puzzled, his head cocked slightly to the side, something he had been doing since he was a child. He was smiling, despite his narrowed eyes and the nearly suspicious glint in them. “Different then,” the coyote mused, whiskers turning up as he spoke. “Like the sun and the moon?” [/html]