Shimmering Sands the hawser rolls, the vessel’s whole and christ, it’s thin

Rannveig was right; believing was not enough. The warhound wanted to believe that she would have the strength, too. Still, there was part of him that knew better than to expect anything from his sister that she did not want to do herself. It baffled him to imagine that she would relinquish her destiny in order to stay close to the comforts of home. It seemed pretentious of him to think that he had had the strength to step away from their rightful place in the world in order to seek out the unknown. Really, Morrigan might have been making the right decision in remaining behind. Surely, she would learn more from their mother and father than the others would by having left.

That was what he had wanted, though. There was freedom in the distance he had put between himself and Skellige. There was a sweet feeling of independence that could not be found in the safety of the islands. Part of him felt as though Morrigan would have understood if she had found the courage to walk away. Another part of him felt as though she would have blamed him for taking her from what she knew.

“I have my doubts,” he rumbled softly. Then, he turned his crown toward his slate-colored sibling and cast a lopsided smirk to his features. Still, his mismatched gaze remained hollow and void, but the end of his tail wavered at his hocks. “She does not know what she is missing,” he stated with a nod that made it seem as though he believed every word. It was true, no matter what kind of message was behind the utterance. Morrigan could never know what they had found unless she made her way to them. One day, Ford hoped that her desires to roam would lead her to the edges of the bay and to her rightful home.