I Carry the Prince in My Arms
#4
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     The moonlight broke behind gray-black clouds, illuminating the trio. Gabriel’s pace was solid and steady, and he walked without seeing the ground below him. On his shoulder, Marlowe was uncharacteristically silent. Even if he had been speaking, the Aquila would not have heard him. His mind was full of blood and fire, and he could not see beyond these things. Someone had hurt his son, as they had hurt his daughter. It was unacceptable.
     Behind him the she-wolf spoke, and his ears turned back swiftly. Broken ribs. A growl reverberated through his chest. There wasn’t much to be done without Corona, but he would have to wait till dawn to find her. There was no use in waking the rest of the clan and giving them reason to panic. It was a tactical thought, one that he had learned from his mother.
     He had also learnt of war. “What happened?” His tone was short, vicious. Gabriel turned from the sand and began to ascend the sloping hill.

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