He had once been called a prophet. He had been called a soldier, a lieutenant—a murderer and a fanatic. Gabriel was many parts of a whole that knew its truth through bloodshed. So he believed that he was able to judge her intentions, just as he had been able to understand and judge Haku. He was these people. He was a wolf, he was a psychopath, he was a killer and he was a beast. He had done great evil, though he knew it to be right. He had done great good, though it had been born out of revenge.
With her answer he rose and led her down the mountain. The path he took was south, towards the forest. He did not speak and did not turn to look at her. They traveled in silence as his feet followed an invisible trail that he had burnt into his memory. The smell of smoke still clung to the forest, disturbed as their paws turned over fallen leaves.
Gabriel stopped abruptly and stared ahead. In a small clearing, one which had not been left undisturbed, were the scattered remains of a monster. The bones that were left were few, for many had been obviously shattered, others thieved away by scavengers. There was no more flesh, no fur. A blackened area marked the center of the clearing, where the shattered remains of the obsidian dagger and a skull lay.
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