“Daniel was of the Raven clan, was he not?”
Wolf scanned O’Neill’s face and inclined his head. “He was.”
O’Neill hesitated, then pushed the question out. “May I ask what his spirit gift was?”
This time Wolf was the one to hesitate, before stepping forward again. “This answer should come from Muriel. Not me.”
Fair enough. A spirit gift was an intensely private and spiritual thing. It was not something shared with strangers. And O’Neill was essentially a stranger. But mannerisms and traits, those were observable and could be shared...hopefully.
O’Neill lengthened his stride to catch up, his follow up question bursting from him without though. “What was he like?”
Wolf’s step caught. He shot O’Neill a quick glance and started walking again. “Daniel?”
O’Neill cleared his throat, but his voice still emerged rough…even gritty. “Yeah.”
Wolf was silent, but it was a thoughtful silence, as though he were thinking the question over, rather than the icy silence of indifference.
“As a youngling he was…bright. Cheerful. The sun everyone revolved around,” Wolf finally said, his boots an even beat against the stone walkway. “As a novice warrior he was quick, clever, well-versed in skill, strategy, and bravery.” For the first time, he glanced at O’Neill. “Samuel taught him well.”
O’Neill’s chest tightened, regret surging. He should have been the one to teach the youngling the warrior ways. Such skills were passed from father to son.
Wolf cast him an assessing look. “Have you spoken to Muriel since the clinic?”
“Not yet.” O’Neill’s voice slowed, even as his feet picked up. “The past two days have been...difficult.” A pathetically weak description for the crushing blow of Benioko’s death. “I’m headed to the clinic now. She’s probably visiting Samuel.”
For several seconds only the dull thud of their boots hitting stone reached his ears.
Then Wolf spoke again. “She will not be there. She’s down in The Neighborhood, sleeping while Olivia sits with Samuel. She is staying with Samuel and Oliva.” He paused, then added. “The Black Hawk has not yet left. You are chipped, are you not?” He didn’t wait for O’Neill’s nod. “Then you can get through the shield. You can still make the next flight down.”
O’Neill absorbed that information, surprised that Wolf wasn’t throwing up roadblocks.
“When will the bird go skids up?”
“Soon.” Wolf shrugged. “You best hurry.”
O’Neill took his advice and broke into an easy jog. His t-shirt was damp by the time he reached the air hangar. He dropped to a walk, weaving his way through the parked aircraft until he reached the helicopter. He joined the line waiting to board the bird, ignoring the antagonistic glances directed his way.
The closest vacant seat was next to Rawlings, which was doable. At least the squid was annoying, rather than icy, and his never-ending questions would give O’Neill a chance to ignore the reason behind this sudden flight.
He shouldn’t feel this fucking anxious, his guts all twisted and aching. It was just a conversation with someone he’d know his entire life. Nothing she said, nothing he said, would change their past or future.
Not with Daniel dead.
“Gotta say, this is a surprise.” Rawlings flashed him a pearly white smile. “Moving into town, are ya?”
“Nah, just down for a quick visit.”
Rawlings’s smile brightened. “Can’t be that quick. This is the last flight tonight. You’ll be stuck ‘til mornin’.”
Shit. The chopper must be heading back to base after dropping off its passengers.
Why the hell hadn’t Wolf mentioned that? Where did the bastard expect him to bunk? Far as he knew, The Neighborhood didn’t have a motel. He scowled when the helicopter’s lift rumbled to life and started to rise. Vibrations coursed through his seat, numbing his ass. Too late to hop off now. This endeavor had turned into a frustrating waste of time.
Rawlings sunny blue eyes narrowed. He hesitated, then shrugged. “You need a place to stay? I got an extra bedroom. You can hang with me and Faith after this visit of yours.”
“Appreciate the offer,” O’Neill said. Did the thank you sound as rusty to Rawlings as it did to him? “But the pilots can bring me back. I can visit later.” Or catch her at the clinic.
“That won’t go over well. The boys flyin’ this bird live in The Neighborhood. They shut this little beauty down at night and fire her up in the mornin’.” Rawls offered a sympathetic shrug. “Askin’ them to fly you back to base instead of headin’ home to supper and a cold brew might get...sticky.”
