Talitha’s return had been a welcome surprise, and to hear Ezekiel’s voice on the wind was another surprise. Still, he had associated his son’s return with his daughter’s presence. Things always cycled, it seemed. The raven had flown overhead and called out in his broken voice, but left before the children arrived. They came across the crest of the western hills, red and gold against the white and dark brown-black of the winter that coated the landscape. Ezekiel was taller than his sister. Gabriel was not surprised by this.
He loped towards them evenly, and greeted his son with a wagging tail. Ezekiel knelt and embraced his father briefly before rising, and Gabriel sat to study the pair. They had both certainly changed from the children he had carried across the mountain so many years ago. “I guess you’re the one that’s bringing home strays now, hm Talitha?” A pointed look was cast to his son, who thankfully was without any company in tow.
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