DarkGold WolfEyes

“Who are you to barge in our home without invitation?” demanded Takodi the horse trainer, his wrinkled face stern.

The figure was on the center floor of the living room quarters now. He swept his black hood from his face. The tall man had dark yellow eyes, and more striking was the jagged, thin red scar that trailed from above his left eyebrow across his eyelid to almost touch the corner of his mouth.

The dark gold in his eyes seemed to flex, and turn pale. The strange man gazed evenly across the room. The breath caught in everyone’s throat.

Takodi stood and Fekala stood up beside him worriedly. The strange man looked deeply with his penetrating eyes into her grandfather’s. She held her grandfather by the shoulder and felt a shiver run through his bones.

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She did not go to the The White Oaks. Juniper declared to her own mind that if she were to speak with old acquaintances, it would be on her own terms. She would do things her way this time, certainly not by Charkol Daes’Kihe’s. She would not lightly trust others again, she’d learned her lesson painfully.

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Fekala swept her long cinnamon hair back from her face and tied it up with a golden ribbon. Her dark eyes were ringed with long dark eyelashes and heavyset eyebrows. She stared vacantly at the painting as she finished the last loop on her ribbon. The little white house was lovingly detailed with wood-grain and ivy crawlers. She watched as her cousin’s paintbrush made a delicate stroke across the canvas.

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Students in the hall gasped for their football player. The girl that clung to him moments before stumbled back into another chair and abruptly fell into it. Everyone apprehensively waited for the cold stranger to react.

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The wet frosty mist clung to his feet, and made clear twinkling droplets on his clothing and dark leather shoes. As he walked the droplets shook off onto the floor making a slush trail after him. Charkol held his head so high that he seemed to snub the people scattering out of the way with their bags.

A thin reddish scar wandered from above his left eyebrow to the corner of his mouth. His scar and boiling eyes intimidated those who dared look at him directly. So as you can imagine, most did not notice his odd clothing when they were too busy adverting their eyes.

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