Ezra

The snow crunched under his claws as he pushed forward, baring his teeth against the icy sting of the wind. The sprite had settled by his wings, huddled under the flesh as she shivered. He felt bad for the little creature, but he had to press on. He had to keep going.

His scarf ruffled around his shoulders, the bony protrusions shifting in the harsh wind, the sound lost to the icy chill. How long would he keep going? Running? He didn't know.

His vision blurred, turned white as he collapsed in the snow. The tiny sprite squeaked and gasped, fluttering out from under his wings to gently pap his cheeks. The soft noises she made fell on deaf ears - Ezra was exhausted. He could go on no further.

Then he felt a wing over him, soft fur against him. A soft voice calling out - "Over here!" - and powerful claws lifting him up.

And the next thing he knew, he was in a warm cavern, a fire roaring next to him, and a warm body by him. His sprite rested on his nose, patting her little knees. Once she noticed he was awake, she made a series of soft, melodical notes, hugging his snout. The body next to him shifted, and he saw the long neck of a Skydancer unfurl and peer down at him. Her glittering orange eyes lit up, her creamy fur fluffing up a little.

Ioneth was her name, he was told. He had been lucky - he had been pushing into the territory the Clan had made in the icy fields of the Snowarden's domain. Ioneth had sensed his distress, far away as he was, and led the others to him. He had been tended to by the Skydancer since.

Ezra, at first, did not trust them. Ioneth, however, was gentle. Careful. She understood his wariness. Cordelia and Mint brought him gifts of sweet treats, and Tae'lin visited to speak with their new visitor. Offered him a place to stay.

He had no where else to go, so he did. The longer he stayed, the more he warmed up to them. He grew particularly close to Ioneth, and is often found near her or by her side.

He never said what he was running from.

---

The whispers are always there. Always lurking in his mind.

Ezra takes care not to listen. To ignore them, even when they are so loud they drowned out his thoughts. Even when his eyes burn, and his wings twitch with movements that are not his own. When the creature that took residence inside of him hisses, he hides away. Sometimes it takes days for him to return, looking more exhausted each time.

The Wildclaw seemed relieved, at least, when they had returned to the glowing forests of the Shadow domain. It had done little to lessen the creature within him, but it had gotten him away from the source. The creature was quieter, weaker, so far away from the icy winds and open tundra. He remains silent, letting no one know about it.

He can keep it contained. He can control it.

If he ignores the way his bones ache, how there are more eyes now than there were before, how his claws seem a little longer, his wings a little ragged... He can control it.

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