He knelt to gather his things, wincing as pain shot up through his arm. It was still raw and wet with blood. One hand grasped the bow and quiver, welcoming the familiar weight. The wolverine pelt reminded him why he needed to steel himself against the torrential emotions that sought to drown him. Weakness would give room for further wounds, and his body and heart were breaking all at once. Amber eyes closed as his sister’s familiar voice came after him. Another mask. Another one of her acts that he had begun to recognize. Perhaps she didn’t realize it, or perhaps she was far cleverer than he imagined.
Both eyes trailed back to her approach, and subconsciously, his body stiffened. It was a natural reaction, one he could not fight if he tried. Not while he still bled on the earth below his feet. One hand reached out, wrapping his bloody fingers with her own. Silently he told her that he would always love her, of their forever-bond, but all too quickly he drew away from her again. “You’re never going to listen to me,” he said lowly, the malice fading but still present. “Do whatever you want, Talitha.”
Ezekiel turned from her then and began walking westward, slinging the weapon back onto his wounded body.
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