Boartusk Heights Some might say "euphoric", no, there's really no words for it

He turned around.

Much like his sister, Tuathal liked to pretend he felt very little, but the quiver in her voice - it caught him. When he had been young he'd worn a tender heart on his sleeve, but things were different now. They had to be. If he could feel nothing, then maybe he could prove that he was strong. That he wasn't some sensitive scrap the world would eat the moment he stepped out from beneath his family's arching wings.

He'd long torn his heart from the fabric of his sleeve - only to find it still beating in his chest.

"Ceara," he repeated, and this time, a sliver of uncertainty tested through his breath. For as much as he wished his heart would turn cold, it really did hurt him to think he'd hurt her. "Did mom and dad send you?" To find me? his guarded words implied. He could remember the gist of the fiery argument he'd had with his parents the night he'd disappeared. He reckoned the entire Clan knew of their disapproval, but could really only guess. He had stormed out of there with a temper raging, and had run - something they hadn't expected him to do - until the scent of Blackthorn faded with his parent's distant calls.

He hadn't even been able to say goodbye - not even to Ceara - and he didn't realize how much he regretted that until now.