It was time.

Gabriel gathered the things he needed, having Enkiel pack them in a bag that would fit on his lupus body. The healer did this without question, though he seemed to sense that something was afoot. Of course, the jackal did not mention this—he was meant to do his duties, and this was all. A few precious items were snuck in when Gabriel dared to shift to his Optime form, bringing what he could not bear to part with.

With his bag settled on his more travel-ready lupus body, and young Cern in his mouth, Gabriel began heading for the borders. It was there he ran into Ezekiel, who was riding his horse away from the barn. The coyote’s face darkened slightly at the sight of the child, but it was not out of anger. The black brushed elder lowered his grandson in order to speak to the Aquila. “I’m taking him to Alaine now,” he explained.

“Talitha told me you were.” Would he have gone if she had asked? Gabriel doubted it. Ezekiel had returned from the Court with shadows in his eyes.

“Let her know we’ve gone,” Gabriel said, recognizing that his words sounded strange. Did he know what he was doing? Yes, in his heart he did. And it hurt. Ezekiel, ignorant of this, dismounted fluidly. He was a man made up of wilderness, finely crafted muscle and red-gold fur like his sister. “I’ll carry him to the borders, if you want. It’ll be easier.”

A nod was given and Ezekiel scooped the boy up, mounting Viggo with a single motion. Though dumbly aware of what was going on, Cern whined slightly at the scent of the strange man. Gabriel made low growls to ease him, then began heading south. They made good time, speaking little, and once there the scarred Aquila left his horse and deposited his nephew on the grass.

Watching his face, Gabriel wondered how much of that guilt belonged for the son he had killed. “This is for the best, Ezekiel.”

Startled, the coyote’s eyes widened. He looked at his father with surprise, but finally dropped his head in shame. “Yeah. Yeah it is. Tell her…I don’t know. That I’m sorry. That we’re sorry. I didn’t…”

“I’ll tell her. You take care of your sister. She needs you, you know.”

“Oh I know. Her, her kids, and this whole clan.” A grunt. He still resented his rank.

“For what it’s worth, Zeke, I’m proud of you.”

The boy smiled, honestly this time, and sighed. He brushed white-tipped bangs from his face, muscles rippling under his pelt. “Thanks, dad.” With that, he jumped back onto his horse and trotted off into the Waste. Gabriel watched him go and knew, suddenly, he would never see the boy again.