There was a very good reason that Gabriel spoke so bluntly around children; he did not understand them. Having been forced to raise his half-siblings from a young age, he had faced the problems of someone who had never been shown the conventional or proper way to deal with young people. The coyote that had kept him alive had been an old woman long gone mad, and she had treated him like a prophet. Even in Scintilla, there were few children. Most had been killed, and those that remained were stark and bitter youths. He had not raised his son and daughter, and had no hand in the other children he had given life to. They belonged to their mother, as he had ultimately considered this better.
So despite his age, Gabriel would treat the boy as he did anyone else. This was simply how he had always behaved around children. The boy was able to hunt small things, which proved he was capable. Eventually he might show potential as a hunter, but there was still much time for this to pan out. Quietly the hybrid listened as the boy spoke of family and, without realizing it, the abuse they had suffered. His golden eyes turned vicious. “Sometimes to protect people you have to hurt others,” he said gruffly. “, even your own family.”
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