hiraeth | c.g. |

xxv

"The door's not going anywhere."

A shoulder bumped Clary's, her gaze tearing away from the front entrance to see Ezekiel besides her. Her eyes scanned over his warm and worn features, noting the small snowflakes that still clung to his dreadlocks that slowly melted into droplets in the slow warmth of the Sanctuary.

Their shelter from the storm was Clary's hell, yet it was true what people said when they believed Hell was ice cold. While the frigid air inside was combatted gently by the multiple fires, it was much better than the hell that was the snow and wind beating against the stone walls.

"I know," Clary said finally as her thoughts drifted, her focus turning back to the door. "But you can never be too careful."

Clary knew he was right. After all, no one would be flirting with death by going out in that storm. She knew that Mother Nature guarded the doors better than any man could, yet Clary couldn't seem to falter.

Ezekiel nodded with a small smile as he saw her returning focus, knowing he wouldn't change her mind or quell her fears. "Watchful as a hawk," he began, his hand rising to twirl the hawk feather he had gifted her, which still had a home in her hair. "That's who you are."

Clary's throat tightened at his words. She knew it was out of a place of warmth and pride, but now the feather seemed to just be the weight of her failures. A reminder that her supposed watchful eyes couldn't keep her family safe.

For a moment, neither spoke. Sounds filled the echoing space instead. The creak of metal, soft whispers of their people trying to hide their fear, a child coughing in their sleep.

"We'll get through this, right?" Ezekiel asked quietly, breaking the illusion of peace.

Clary couldn't get herself to look at the man, unable to see him without thinking of her late mentor. Jesus and Tara. Henry. Enid.

"We have to," Clary spoke, fearing that if she thought of those they had lost, she would fracture. "For them, for us... for the people we lost."

Ezekiel nodded in agreement. "Your mentor would be proud," Ezekiel said softly, causing Clary to let out a deep breath. "I hope so. I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing." Ezekiel let out a chuckle at that. "None of us know what we're doing. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others."

Though his words held humor, Clary looked back only to see the King looking longingly to where Carol sat. The woman was seated at the stairs, folded into herself for warmth as Daryl sat beside her. Clary could see their serious looks as they spoke lowly, the young woman watching as their eyes fell upon her. Clary didn't move, didn't say anything, only watched as Daryl's jaw clenched before he nodded, turning back to the woman beside him.

"He cares about you a lot, you know?" Ezekiel asked, which Clary answered immediately with a nod. "He's been by my side since the beginning. Even when it got rough, he was there." Ezekiel smiled. "Yeah, seems like it."

After another moment, Ezekiel let out a deep breath. "I told him to leave," The man admitted softly, causing the young woman to furrow her brows, looking to him. "What?" Ezekiel nodded. "Carol won't talk to me and he's her best friend." He shrugged. "I know it's unfair but... I blame him for what happened."

Clary was silent as the man looked back at her. "I told him to walk away and he said no. He said he was staying right here, not just because of Carol or Lydia or Alexandria, but because of you." The man turned away as Clary's eyes fell back to Daryl, the man still in conversation with Carol. "You've got a whole lot of people who love you and care about you. I just want you to know that."