The walk back to Haziel’s tent was quieter. Patrols wandered down the main road, lively and alert, but Zeke noticed a lot of the other angels were not. Did the camp bed down by section? Or did they all feel the pull of sleep at the same time, except for the patrols? There was always the chance Zeke was seeing a lull in activity because of mealtime or something like it.
Haziel guided him through the last bit of tents into the cluster that held his. Some of the flaps were tied back, a flurry of activity evident by the swift flash of feathers every few seconds between the gaps. His companion didn’t even glance at the other tents. Instead, he walked right into the open flaps of his own, Zeke at his heels, and pulled them loose with a gentle tug at the strings keeping them open. Dimness shroud
