Gabriel shuffled around the trunk again, searching for faux arrows—arrows designed to injure but not kill. “All these arrows are sharp—and have blood on them.”“Yes, well, I left my cotton candy arrows at home next to my teddy bear.”Gabriel turned to Tristan. “We’re not going to kill that guy.”“We might.”“Tristan, that’s homicide.”“It’s self defense.”“It’s not self defense. He didn’t come after you.”“But he came after Scarlet. And, technically, Scarlet is a piece of me. So, yeah. It’s self-defense. Are you coming with me or not?”“I don’t want to kill him. I just want to hurt him. Or detain him.”“Or maybe you could just give him a big hug.”Tristan started marching into the woods. “You can stay there and clean weapons or whatever, but I’m going after our intruder.
Love.Not the kind you see in the movies or hear about on the radio.The real kind.The kind that gets beaten down and bloody, yet perseveres.The kind that hopes even when hope seems foolish.The kind that can forgives. The kind that believes in healing. The kind that can sit in silence and feel renewed.The real kind of love.It's rare and we have it..