Gabriel watched solemnly as Mary’s body was tenderly laid on the pyre by Nuriel, one of the many angels the old woman had kept underneath her ‘wings’ so to speak. He cast his eyes up to the sky only to see it was as rebellious as he, big dark clouds covered the sun darkening their day with a quiet rumble of thunder. The sky was as mournful as the old messenger felt.
The archangel’s eyes fell on the grass underneath his shoes and a confused eyebrow was lifted, for from underneath the thin layer of snow, the first bloom of springtime emerged. He resisted the temptation to crush it beneath his heel.
How inconsiderate of nature to blossom even on the gloomiest days.
It was vile and heartbreaking. Gabriel didn’t see reason in making their youngest fledgling suffer. True, Sam would be able to visit his mother whenever it urged him, but that didn’t make this any easier. This loss was extremely significant. Not just for the boy, but their entire flock.