The search would lead her to the stones, just the same as any other day. His soul felt at ease amongst them, a sense of belonging. Perhaps he knew, deep down, that he would someday join them there—perhaps he wanted to make it easier on those left behind.

Kove was laying against the mother stone when he heard the steady approach of another. Slowly but surely, he lifted his head and peered around, relaxing after spying the familiar face of his daughter. “PiKutenngai?” he questioned, pushing himself up to a sitting position as he did so—and only after did his face briefly fall with uncertainty, righted to a thoughtful smile moments later. “I seem to forget where I am these days,” he said. “How are you?”

Easthollow. His daughter’s pack, where much of his family currently resided.

He was not back north.

Times like these, he wondered about himself greatly. How long until his mind was entirely gone? It was problematic enough when his body started to give out on him but he took comfort in knowing that his mind was still sharp—was then but now no longer. That someday he might forget himself entirely was a terrifying idea to have, and not one he wanted to linger on for long. So, when she spoke, he listened attentively, providing his full attention.

“Being a parent is no easy task, Desna”—he paused, then corrected—“Valette.” Stubborn was the mind, too. “Have you tried speaking with her?” It was a start, at least, however minor.

Although speaking was often the first step, at times, he’d learned long ago, it was not always possible—sometimes, when the hurt sunk deeply enough, space needed to come first. “Perhaps she needs time away,” he began. “Time helps heal wounds. Sometimes those wounds need to heal before talking can begin.” Sometimes it was the only option given.

“Family always comes back,” the elder added. “Some wounds feel too deep but we’re all eventually brought back together.” As was how it should be.

When thanks was given, he offered her a smile and nodded his head. How long until her wayward child returned, how long she needed to heal, would be revealed in time—but the elder held no doubt in his heart that she would return someday.

“I will admit that I have been better,” he said, albeit with a tone far more lighthearted than the words implied. “Getting older is not easy. I sometimes wonder...” but there he trailed off, unable to bring the sentence to a close. He was not yet ready to accept what he knew would soon be true, that his body would eventually no longer be able to support him. He simply did not wish to think about it, although he knew, in his heart, that it was coming soon.