His days drew long, for the heat of the summer was oppressive. Gabriel slept often, and at night tried to wander through the familiar forest. It surprised him that his shoulder grew stronger, though he did not tell his medic. It wasn’t as if he had stopped limping. There was little Gabriel could really do to aid the clan besides offer his advice—Ezekiel was doing fine as Aquila, even if the boy doubted himself. People left. They always left. Gabriel had no doubt that this would pass in time. Summer made for weak-bonds. Winter brought those who needed aid.
He was laying on the day-bed, a massive wolfish thing than claimed it was not that. Gabriel had a book under one paw, reading silently. The hybrid considered going to find food, and at this point heard the footsteps near his door. Talitha. Curious as to why his daughter might be seeking him out, Gabriel pushed the book aside. “Come in,” he called, stretching to loosen his stiff muscles.
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