They were a band. Under the leadership of Sephiran, the heathens had gathered together, along with a few non-Saxe wolves, to work toward a common goal. Truthfully, Ezekiel doesn’t care much about the band or what that goal is because his focus is simply being with Ely. Since she wishes to be here, the young lad will lend his strength to their numbers and try to do whatever is expected of him.
It is early, the sun having just crested to the horizon to bath the Polar Sound in a soft morning glow and Zeke is happily curled around his sister when a summons reaches his ears. Blowing out a huff, the young man gently extracts himself her side, placing a gentle kiss on his slumbering sister’s cheek before heading out into the day. Sephiran is a crass, rude, dark individual and Zeke finds that he is actually enjoying the male’s company because the purple man
pushes them.
Limits, for each of them, are only there because they have sought to try and push themselves further but the purple male expects them all to strive for
more. Okay, so maybe being in his band isn’t a horrible thing. Arriving quickly to where the large male had called from, Zeke offers him a simple dip of his head in greeting while they await the arrival of the third wolf. Ezekiel turns his sense to the land around them, seeking the reason that he had been called out here.
Prey linger in the area, many of them unperturbed by the band of wolves that have settled in for the season. Nose works until, there under the musk of bears and snow leopards, the young male finds a worthy target for the Saxe. Blinking, his duel-toned eyes raise to meet Sephiran’s mismatched gaze while a smug grin tugs across his features, his tone is nonchalant as he says,
“So. We are going to have moose for dinner?” Once the third wolf arrives, he will work with them to track down the juvenile creature so that they may all fill their bellies tonight.
"Ezekiel Saxe"
