Ezekiel

editing note: Since this is the start of the story for now, I'm a bit tempted to replace it with something that has more action in it. Though if I go with the plan to have Capensia's bio cover the clan's "last day", having the next in sequence being something calm-but-tense could be a nice tonal snap.

Ezekiel Practical Patriarch Silence Ezekiel sipped his tea with strained politeness. His claws curled and uncurled as power built behind his seaglass eyes, spilling over in sparks that faded before the merchant saw them. The air was thick with silence; he felt it crowding in, pressing its thumbs against his skull. When the merchant spoke, it was in a cultured murmur. "I'm afraid this may be our last visit. To come so close to the deep jungle is an unacceptable risk, at least at our current trade volume, but I would hate to lose business with a longstanding client. I've drafted an agreement I think you'll find appealing." More silence as Ezekiel read. Unacceptable. He flipped through, rustling the pages as loudly as he dared. "I'm afraid that our clan does not, and will never, trade for meat. As you yourself mentioned, we are near the deep jungle. Our supply is both continual and fresh. I hope you understand." The merchant's eyes crinkled. She spread her claws reassuringly.

"Ah, I do, but the purchase will make our trip worthwhile! Think of it as a good-faith payment to ensure our trade, repaid in rest for your hunters."

Silence dominated again. Ezekiel could smell wind and leaves and the blood of fresh kills as clanmates prepared for the day's labor. The deepwoods team would be leaving within the hour, and he'd told them not to wait up. The merchant still sat there, waiting, gently rolling her pearl across the table. Ezekiel clenched his claws and sighed.

"Would you accept a counter-offer? We'll raise purchase volume, but not in food. You're endangering yourselves by carting so much of it so near the deep jungle. Freezing isn't enough to stop the smell from spreading." The merchant objected, but he shushed her in monotone. "Ice isn't enough. The clans of the wooded peninsula will trade you food as you need it. What we need is tools and specimens. You know we'll pay well."

The merchant leaned back, considering the reflection of pale eyes on pale pearl. She'd been born to wide skies and stars, the broad, flat emptiness of life after trees. Right now, she was remembering pale ribbons in a quiet night. They wound themselves through the void and cast a faded green light on fresh snow. For her, silence was the end of storms.

She rose.

"You've given me a lot to think on. If you'll pardon me, I'd like a moment to review my routes. Could we continue this tonight?"

Ezekiel nodded respectfully as he left. Later, she found the hall scattered with cast-off formalwear. Ears trained to snowfall caught far-off whoops and hollers, cries of "******' finally!" and "We were halfway in, Zeke!" Curiosity dragged her to the edge of the entry. But by the time she got there, they'd vanished, swallowed up by the jungle's humid din.


Art by Hyracia