Lone Star Mountain just a stoic statue, fit for a nobody

@Skaigona lingers close to him, always. ezra does not ask, but he thinks she is afraid he, too might vanish like anselm and gideon if he strays too far out of her sight.

he is hungry and tired but bolstered by stolen energy from his grief and fury; like a vessel welcoming those primordial feelings older than god, harboring them into his mouth where they linger like sacrosanct words he dare not speak.

he desires only to find his brother and father and make sure his mother is safe.

he does not want to stop; would push to keep going if not for the fact that amadeo could not follow. not right now. and it is so very easy for ezra to point the finger of blame; choosing to point it at mortal flesh instead of divine countenance of deities.

it was only after shifting this way and that, that he finally settles down. but sleep is not kind to him.

flashes of murky, shadow clad visions haunt him: not corporeal enough for him to recall when he jerks awake; startled.

vessel, vessel, vessel —

vessel of rage, vessel of grief, vessel of the wretched and divine.

he rises to his paws quickly, and steps into the low light, letting the soft drizzle cool his heated skin. golden gaze staring at the low hung moon; brow furrowed.

ezra had aged in their flight from rivenwood. she had taken him from his home, from druid, from the others; he had left a boy and now he was silent beneath the heavy moon.
raising chin from paws, she watched him with sorrowful golden eyes. he was a boy who had lost too much. what did he stand to gain now that she'd dragged him from the only land he had ever known?
"ezra." a moment and his mother was beside her son. "let's hunt. the birds are nesting. we'll climb."
up, up a thin alpine path.

There was a red boy and a pale woman.

Nutuyikruk hid in the mountaintops on fragile stones, and stayed often veiled by large rocks, but she moved. Both eyes shifted through the cracks and debris, but the strange people were not so visible that way.

Shifting closer to the edge, low on her belly, she saw a glimpse again of the moving red boy and woman. She even caught a name.

Ezra.

ezra.

the vessel's revere is broken by his mother's voice; a lighthouse guiding ezra's way back to the safety of harbor. but the sirensong call of primordial power fights viciously. something has inherently shifted within ezra: no longer a boy ... but not yet a man.

something torn between manhood and god teen(age)hood.

the vessel looks to her, golden gaze heavy and burning, seeing her but seeing elsewhere.

a slow blink and the heavy, veil cloaked spell is broken. but still ezra feels vessel in each breath, in each thrum of his heartbeat. they are irrevocably twined together, he and vessel.

her words remind him that he is hungry and the thought of birds make his mouth water. a tie to the earthly realm, a grounding. reminding him that his soul might be some otherwordly force but he is very much mortal.

he looks at the small path his mother intends for them to climb and his stomach does a small swoop. whether it is distrust in the height or of his own body to keep him from falling if he were to climb that, ezra isn't sure.

a soft pinprickle, a feeling of being watched is felt at his nape but a scan of golden gaze does not reveal their watcher. a low flare of his nostrils before his gaze turns back to his mother. trusting her. more than he trusted himself. then let us hunt.

he would follow her lead.

ezra looked like anselm, skaigona realized with a start. his father's build was undeniable, even with the spilling crest of bright red over his spine and his head.
but where gideon's eyes had been the softness of an innocent curiosity, ezra's had become harder. implacable. and as he spoke, she saw anselm in the way even his voice sounded now.
what sort of birthright had they given him?
they were indeed being watched, and that one unseen would see the iron flash of her eyes before she turned them away to their search.
leading him into a stand of birch, she reared to tug low branches, rewarded by a falling nest. the eggs were left to ezra; skaigona pounced on a sleepy nuthatch and dispatched it quietly.
one bird and three eggs was a start. the next opportunity for those branches she gave to her son, motioning him forward in the dark.

There must have been death in the woman's gaze to strike a memory of something bigger.

A sharp gasp fled her lips with a harsh whisper. "Sick woman!" White fur coated, and brilliant red ran down the back of the willowy figure. Hex's words had fed her mind. Sick people! Sick people! Was it only the woman?

An owl cooed. A careful glance to its calls, and Nutuyikruk's focused shocked back to the red boy and white woman. Quiet!

Ezra.

They were hunting. She needed to get out of here! And made two careful steps forward along the high path, but with time greatly taken from the stalking lynx. Eagle eyes, intense, fearful, curious-- observant. Learning how they caught birds from trees, and how they curved the branches down to knock the nests to the ground. Clever.

The girl was not at the rendezvous when he returned from a quick hunt. The mountain hare fell from his jaws, and he made only the briefest attempt to cover it before sniffing around, looking for her. Her scent trailed elsewhere, though, so he started to follow it in earnest.

His worry—and ire—grew stronger as the path led him down the ridge and then outside of it altogether. It meandered toward the nearby peak where he'd seen—

Pale woman & child.

Hex saw them first over yonder and began to bristle. He kept on the trail, and minutes later, came across the girl, crouching in the brush, watching the pair of wolves.

Nutu! he hissed, moving low and quick toward her. You can't be out here on your own! Without thinking, he seized the nape of her neck and tugged backward, toward Shadow Ridge.

Just one bite. And they were close. . .

They needed to get away, NOW

ezra, unaware of what was going on behind the scenes: out of his vision and quietly scuffled and thus wholly out of his mind, focuses on the nest. his mother dispatched the bird and he goes for the eggs. for a moment as he stares at the four eggs nestled in the nest of debris crafted lovingly he considers devouring them.

it was a wild moment. a selfish moment driven by a spike of adrenaline and a soft but quick intake of breath.

he does not act on that impulse.

instead, he gathers them in his mouth and gingerly carries the delicacies back to where his mother waited, sitting them down beside the bird carcass.

it was not a feast fit for a queen ... but it would sate the worst of the hunger.

i vill eat after you. it is soft but a command none the less; fixing his mother with a stubborn glint that spoke that he would not be swayed from his decision.

her eyes misted; skaigona drew a breath and nodded. for a moment she was unguarded, heda again.
he sounded like anselm, a fact which made her jawline jump with emotioned muscles; what had he done? why had he fought amadeo? and fled?
"thank you, ezra," she said hoarsely, falling to a silent meal.
later, she watched him as he partook of his portion. "baby. did gideon ever say anything about the sorts of places he liked to be? forests or open places, or by water? i'm thinking we should search this side of the mountains first. but — we should go back. i only ran because of — because of —" druid.
another agony. she cleared her throat and looked away. "we'll go back to rivenwood. look there first. then — well. it'll be cold, ezra, the taiga. but we'll have to look both places first. and we'll look for your sisters, while we're looking. and, oh, wouldn't it be so nice if you met your older brothers too," rambling, rambling.

Nutu out!

They ate. The scent of strong yolk flooded down both lungs. The cracking of eggshells between teeth were followed by hungry laps. A few would hardly satiate even one of them, and still they were split. Just a woman with her child, and Nutuyikruk's focus had been intense. The sharp white of the mother, and the mourning gray of the boy in red. Ezra's words twisted different in his mouth, and his aaka.. It was hard to keep up with each word, but there had been the catch of a Gideon. Sisters, brothers.

The girl's body fell limp first and then moved fluidly to follow Hex. A whisper cried out with an overwhelming sense of guilt. "Sorry! Aya!.. I'm comin'!" Fleeting guilt, nonetheless, before a sense of wonder raged over her to catch a final look back. Too far now to see anything but the tip of ears, and which had been hard to decipher in the dark.

Inhaling, she lifted her head high enough to catch a final glance at the boy in red.
Then melted away in the dark. Where it was safe.

"Comin'."

At least they'd not been seen.