The sun dawned in increments over the far distant hills, fingers of light picking out the green of the grass like little emeralds. It was beautiful from down on the back porch, but Zophiel wondered how pretty it would look from the roof of the house, where Michael was perched in a good impression of a mourning dove. Granted, the massive archangel was silver, not gray, but he wasn’t going to mention it either way. He liked his head right where it was.
Then again, Michael probably had no idea if being compared to a dove was an insult or not. Zophiel didn’t think it was.
Zophiel looked up, at the broad feet dangled over the edge of the rain gutters. His brother had volunteered for the first watch and it was almost time for Zophiel to relieve him. He stepped down into the dirt patch at the f
