…I am aware. [He answers unsmilingly and with a tiredness of his own running like a thread through those three simple words, leaving it a mystery as to which remark he was addressing while he half-absently watches the other pick his way up.
Words, old words drift to the surface of his mind from the times he has lingered with Abel on dark, quiet nights, gazing out from the highest point in the village towards his home deep in the woods. ’tis a sad place; but ‘tis ours, Abel.
The crow stirs, swiping its beak from side to side against Isaac’s glove to clean it of stray crumbs. He slowly turns his hand to invite it to rest in his palm, but it squawks and takes flight in a sweeping blur of feathers, making for the trees above. His hand remains open and half-outstretched for a moment longer, less expectantly and more thoughtfully, before he lets it sink to his side.]
action
Words, old words drift to the surface of his mind from the times he has lingered with Abel on dark, quiet nights, gazing out from the highest point in the village towards his home deep in the woods. ’tis a sad place; but ‘tis ours, Abel.
The crow stirs, swiping its beak from side to side against Isaac’s glove to clean it of stray crumbs. He slowly turns his hand to invite it to rest in his palm, but it squawks and takes flight in a sweeping blur of feathers, making for the trees above. His hand remains open and half-outstretched for a moment longer, less expectantly and more thoughtfully, before he lets it sink to his side.]