“Did you see that?” growled Murque. “Be more specific, idiot,” Dinge sneered. Scuffling and scraping sounds grated against the Observer’s sensitive ears, and finally the first captor said, “There it was again! Just a bit of light out of the corner of my eye!” “Down here?” scoffed his companion. “Your eyes are playing tricks on you.” “I’m going to check,” insisted Murque, and the ominous snick of a drawn blade sent a shiver down their prisoner’s back. With a hiss of impatience, Dinge snapped, “Fine! It’s a waste of time, though.” “Not if I’m right!” “You’re never right!” While the demons’ bickering faded from earshot, Ephron lifted his face toward the whisper of tiny wings. He opened the front of his shirt with fumbling fingers, offering refuge to the little one who risked so much to meet him in his dank prison. Small hands patted his cheek, then pressed a thin wafer to his lips, and as the manna dissolved upon his tongue, Ephron’s hope was renewed.
