A sheen glinted at the corner of Zeke’s eye. Haziel gasped as dark gray strands sprang from the walls of the two tents they were passing between. They settled like an old web over Haziel’s bronze curls and the angel folded under the weight that Zeke didn’t think should be able to hold him down. Zeke let go of Haziel’s cloak at the last second and when the strands touched the parched dirt, Haziel squirmed without a sound.
“What do I do?” Zeke asked him in a frantic whisper, probably still too loud for the dangerous place they were in. There wasn’t an answer beyond the quiet thrashing of his companion stuck under the web. The cloak over Haziel slipped and revealed the creamy curve of his left wing. The strand seemed to shift on its own. It settled among feathers after an instant and Haziel
