Growing up, Hazael had never spent much time here on the beaches of Israel. There was just no point in coming down to the beaches when there had been too many Greecian soldiers milling about for the last decade or so. It had simply not been a safe place for the young Israeli to be so he had avoided it if he could. However, the Israeli boy had found that this had changed in recent weeks and he was slowly spending more time here. Ever since the day that the Greeks had been expelled from Judea, Hazael had found that his home was unbearably loud. Not that it had ever been quiet with the number of people that had been crammed underneath one roof. There had always been no escape from the sheer amount of noisy kids and yapping dogs present in the home, but Hazael found out that he was more sensitive to these sorts of things than he had been in the last nineteen years. He wasn’t overly worried about it, though. The healers who had tended to him after the Taengean man had thrown him against the temple steps had warned him that this might be something that would happen. After all, he had hit his head pretty hard against the stone, hard enough that it did something to his brain. Hazael didn’t understand a whole lot of the details beyond the fact he was going to have headaches for a few months and then hopefully everything would be fine.

Hopefully.

As there was nothing else that Hazael could do besides waiting out his recovery; the beach had become an odd sort of haven away from the hubbub of his home. As the weather was quickly turning colder, Hazael had found the shorelines practically empty -- save for the few sailing merchants who were anchored in the nearby port. They were the only ones with any proper business in this part of Israel at this time of year. Even then their numbers were few and far between. Word about the conflict that was unfolding in Israel between the citizens and the foreign soldiers had surely traveled to the other kingdoms at this point. Not to mention that the war that was occurring in Egpyt had not been any help either in attracting those from other countries either. It would take time for word about Israel being a safe place again to travel to those who would rather stay away until the troubles had passed. This was something that Hazael personally welcomed, having been raised deep in the xenophobic rhetoric that had cast the Taengeans out in the first place. Let the strangers come back in the spring when word would have reached far and wide that the Greeks were gone making Israel safe again. Until then, his people needed time to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

With the merchants being gone and the citizens of Israel staying away there were only a few people on the beach with Hazael. However, they were all a bit further down the beach from him, something that the boy chose on purpose so that he might let the two dogs he had with him off their leashes for a short while so they could enjoy the empty beaches as well. As the early morning light shone down brightly upon them, only one of the hounds that had accompanied him was still running around in the sand. This one was his beloved four-legged friend, Bracha. She was a golden-colored Saluki who was eager to enjoy her chance to not to have been right at Hazael’s side for once. After all, the boy’s vision was weakened and the world was far too blurry for him to properly comprehend. Hazael needed this dog to navigate the familiar streets of his city. She was usually happy enough to do this, but she was also enjoying the game of fetch the two companions were playing with a piece of driftwood.

When she returned to him with the bleached wood between her teeth, Hazael tried to throw it towards the docks, hoping that this would be far enough to satisfy Bracha’s need to run as he turned his attention to the other dog at his side, scratching lightly at her ears as the hound’s eyes followed the stick, but made no move to follow Bracha. Hazael didn’t blame her. His poor Ofrit must have been utterly exhausted after caring for the newest litter of puppies in his kennels for so long. For weeks she had never left her children’s side, but now that the pups were getting bigger and she was attempting to wean them; small journeys like this were surely a welcome escape for a short while. Hazael was pretty certain about this from the way the nearly jet-black dog with significantly longer fur than Bracha had flopped down next to Hazael and had refused to move since when they had first arrived on the beach. Ofrit had earned this vacation of hers as far as he was concerned.

“Hungry, girl?” Hazael murmured as he fished a small scrap of meat out of the basket on the opposite side of him from Ofrit and held it out for the momma dog to eat. Hazael’s mother had taken notice of how much time he had been spending down here as of late and been kind enough to gather up a small picnic for her eldest boy; if only to allow him just an extra half-hour of quiet down here at the beach. It was a kind gesture, but Hazael didn’t know what Levana would think if she knew that half of the meager meal went to the dogs rather than Hazael. He was fairly certain that she would know that this was the case as it was no secret that he adored his dogs more than anything in the world, but with a father who disapproved of this hobby of his… well it was better to pretend that this sort of thing was not happening.

As Hazael had been here for a while, Bracha and Ofrit had managed to consume half of his meal; but he was happy to give them more as Bracha returned the stick to him. Hazael was sure to laud praises on her as he gave her a small reward before sending the stick off again in a random direction. All in all, this was a peaceful day for him, a chance that he did not get that often. However, what the boy did not realize was that he was not alone here on the beach. His own terrible eyesight had shielded the fact that there were two outsiders here on the beach with him. Two hungry strangers who had certainly taken notice of the basket of food next to Hazael and how it seemed to be only for the hounds.

Surely, it would be better suited for the likes of them after the hell that they had been through.

Yahweh Almighty, perhaps Hazael would have even offered them some if he had seen them as the men that they were and not the shapeless color blobs that made up most of his vision. That would have certainly been kinder than the accidental greeting that the boy had sent them by tossing the piece of driftwood in their general direction -- completely blind to the fact that his dog was now on a direct collision course for these two strangers who did not belong in Israel...