GawaiN

Ambrose landed smoothly on the castle ramparts, the long streamers of his tail lashing against the glass of the windows below. Gawain leaned forwards and patted him on the neck. The thunderbird purred, stepping neatly from the rampart to the roof. He leaned forwards, getting low enough to the ground to allow Gawain to slip from his back. Landing bent-kneed, Gawain straightened up and dusted off his hands. There was one job taken care of.

Tossing Ambrose a treat from the leather satchel he’d left hanging on the tower door, he released the thunderbird to his evening hunt, and took the stairs down to the next floor. What next? He sighed, checking the clock on the wall as he passed. He had time before the next meeting, but there was translations waiting for him in the refugee office.

Passing the chapel did little to ease the tension in his shoulders. His thoughts turned to his brother, and their half-conversation in the gloom. He’d hoped, foolishly he realised, that once they were back in the castle, everything would begin to sort itself out. He should have known better, he’d seen it happen before.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed as he bumped shoulders with a figure in the half-light. “I was miles away, I...”
His stomach dropped, churning guiltily.

“Thea,” he said, managing a smile, but not quite meeting her eye. “Forgive me.”