A month goes by.
What wounds festered on his body had since scarred over.
Another month comes.
And Lómion spends most of his waking hours within the den so kindly given to him. Despite his injuries being long since tended to. Despite being rested from the exaughstion of a nomadic life.
Another.
Sadness was whispered within the wind of Moonglow, but Lómion could not put faces to these voices. Nor had he put in the active effort to.
Now fall was on the horizon, and the man felt no less of a stranger than he had the moment he returned. The wisp treaded the border with hestiance, as though he'd never walked this path before.
What wounds festered on his body had since scarred over.
Another month comes.
And Lómion spends most of his waking hours within the den so kindly given to him. Despite his injuries being long since tended to. Despite being rested from the exaughstion of a nomadic life.
Another.
Sadness was whispered within the wind of Moonglow, but Lómion could not put faces to these voices. Nor had he put in the active effort to.
Now fall was on the horizon, and the man felt no less of a stranger than he had the moment he returned. The wisp treaded the border with hestiance, as though he'd never walked this path before.
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