Shadowwyn Moor blood talon

there is a foreboding sense of finality that lingers like a plague in ezra's chest when he thinks of his mother. the sun clan keep with their migration patterns, and she does not come to them. it wasn't as if the fact that she might've gotten the wasting sickness from druid hadn't been discussed. it had been, first between mother and son and then father and sons.

still, ezra had held out that fierce burning hope that should've belonged only to yahweh that it hadn't been the truth; only precaution. but time ticks on like blood beneath a bruise and he is left to face the cruel reality of his thoughts: that he had left his mother to die alone.

and now, he has no choice but to become an avenging fallen angel. except ... there was no one left to seek vengeance from. druid had passed. amadeo was presumably also decaying in the thick boughs of rivenwood.

so, the sunwalker, as before, keeps close to his father and brother; quiet and brooding. trying to find a way to adapt to this new culture and new home, wondering if becoming one with the sun clan might be a balm to the fierce ache in his heart.