Forgotten Gods: Father Cooper
I see someone else. Someone with wings, golden hair, piercing blue eyes, a golden bow and quiver in his hands. No one else on the street seems to see this. I tilt my head to the side, and the reflection follows. My hand raises, and his does as well, mimicking me. I glance down at my cassock and then back at my reflection. But he is holding the bow and arrow up, ready to let it go.
