Today’s installment in Allison and Gabe’s story switches to Gabe’s point of view. If you’re just now joining us, you might want to start at the beginning. Or, you can use this list of the installments.  Otherwise, enjoy the story, then comment and give me your suggestions for a last name for Gabe!

_________________________________________________________

…

Gabe sat on a crude wooden stool, watching the firelight’s reflection on the stones under his feet. The light flickered and danced, braving the cold that still filled the castle, even in these late months of spring.

He stretched out his feet toward the fire. He may have learned that a person could withstand more cold than he’d at one time thought possible, but that didn’t mean the warmth couldn’t be enjoyed when it was available.

“Gabriel, look!”

He lifted his head and smiled at the eleven-year-old who stood at his elbow, holding a wooden doll that he had to admit had been very crudely carved.

“I fashioned a new gown for the doll you made me,” the girl said.

“So you did.”

“Màthair gifted me with a bit of cloth left from her gown.”

He noticed the tiny stiches, ordered far more neatly than those in the tiny gown she’d made with the last scrap of fabric she’d received, two years earlier.

“Your skill has grown,” he said.

A sunny smile bloomed in her face – a smile that never ceased to make him think of Allison. Both Elspeth’s smile and Allison’s smile had the same dimples and the same little quirk in the corners. The same mischievous light flashed in their eyes, too, over a light sprinkling of freckles.

Elspeth danced away, her tangled golden curls bobbing as she wove through the crowded hall over to where her mother sat weaving in a corner.

Gabe sighed. Allison had tangled golden curls, too, once upon a time. Before she’d grown old enough to think they needed straightened to look sophisticated. He’d teased her about it and secretly missed the little girl Allison who’d always been ready for whatever fun his boyish mind could concoct.

Now, he’d be glad to see even the appalingly grown-up Allison. A friendly face who didn’t regard him as a partially-insane misfit would be welcome.

“Gabriel!” a well-known voice spat the words out from behind him.

He turned and looked over his shoulder.

“You’ll accompany Giric on tomorrow’s raid. He’ll give the orders, and…”

Ploys and plans continued to be discussed, along with the now-familiar instructions that Gabe take the most dangerous position. Again.

“Have you heard my orders, Gabriel?”

The words shot through the hall with venom, and Gabe ground his teeth. “I heard you,” he ground out.

“Then be ready to leave at dawn.”

Gabe didn’t bother to reply.
…

Jump to Installment #6

________________________________________

So, everyone… what do you think would be a good last name for Gabe? Should it be Scottish? Something simple and common? Something unique and unsual?