Dragoncrest Cliffs leave me a literature of toothmarks & tongue-tracks

Étoille is tired and aching, raw in spots from injuries still too recent to be ignorable. He could have been harmed much worse and for that he is grateful. The war was one and yet the march back home did not feel as victorious as he once imagined it might. Perhaps he has been away for too long. His legs are like lead.

At the borders he does not linger once heda announces their arrival. He wants to see Furi, of course. But right now he is not much for company, bloodied and drained. Instead he looks to find the fisa, hoping to have his face tended to - and if he cannot find her, he will retire to the den and sleep some of this exhaustion off before making an effort to find her again.