Dragoncrest Cliffs We can bow 'cause our music's warmer than blood

He was up early today, lusting after his woman (women?) here and the others he'd found along the way. Breeding season was in full swing and boy howdy, was he digging it. Like a rutting deer, or a freshman boy stumbling unknowingly into a sorority party. Well. . .maybe not so unknowingly.

But all thoughts of carnal abandon left him as he spotted Ephraim sitting alone by the lake, looking contemplative. He gave his friend a chuff of greeting as he padded over, sitting down alongside him with a silent smile. The two sat quietly for a couple of moments before he finally spoke, glancing over at the coywolf.

You doing okay? Verx asked, worry palpable in his voice. He didn't know that the young man didn't know about Caiaphas. It all made sense--the resemblance between the two, the boy's unfamiliarity with Trigedasleng, and so on. Blackhead's acidic remark just tied it all together.

What did he care, though? Ephraim was too forthright to be a spy, and even if he was, he would have turned on them in the battle. Blood had never really mattered to Vercingetorix; the most important bonds were formed in action, not in things out of your control. So what if Ephraim was the "child of the enemy"? Frankly, he just felt sorry that the kid had to live knowing his mother was like that.

(Okay, Caiaphas was pretty cool. But rivalry was rivalry, so Verx would stay stubbornly opposed to the woman until tensions eased, if they ever would.)