Gabriel had been sleeping more and more. Things were settling into a pattern—one of ease and one that felt fluid. His days were no longer tormented by the threat of death around every corner. Haku would die, this was certain. His soul knew this because it sensed the power of the black dagger, hidden in his den. It radiated with wickedness, something that Gabriel could not himself use. It was arrogant of him, and self-righteous, to believe this. Yet he did, without doubt, because he believed he was nothing like the man he sought to destroy. At least, he had convinced himself of this.
The dream was never the same, and often changed as he stirred. He could recall only scarce things; the smell of smoke, burning hair, and the screaming. Always the screaming. The fire had raged for weeks, and took with it the young, the old, the sinners and holy men alike. Alone Gabriel had emerged. His fur had turned black and his eyes captured that sacred tool within themselves. More then a hundred lives would be lost in the fire that destroyed SoCal. This did not matter to him. God’s Will was done.
A voice cut through the dream, one that dampened the smell of smoke and stirred something else inside of him. Groggily the coy-wolf staggered to his feet, shaking the dream from his head as he advanced to the doorway. Once there it was the smell of rain in the air that woke him. As they had been for weeks gray storm clouds passed turbulently overhead. This was not something he feared, though he supposed it was unnatural of him to do so. They had grown too wise for their own good, the Luperci, and he took this in stride as he trotted towards the borders.
He found her there, a silvery figure that stood out against the green-gold of Inferni’s grassland. It did not surprise him that the woman had come again, though something in her face made his bones ache with trepidation. “Anu,” the Aquila called out, closing the distance between them. “What brings you all the way up here?” Certainly he would have liked to believe it was him. The old ego rose, however slightly, each time he found himself with something to show for it.
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