Silverlight Terrace gobaith

How long must she look before she gives Llewellyn up for dead?

The revolution is happening, and it will happen without her should she not return soon. They will find another ruler in his stead. Padrig, perhaps, for he is charismatic and kind. But Padrig, bless him, is not half the man she knows her brother to be—and she does not wish to be queen, either. It cannot be Padrig; it must be Llewellyn, it must!

With a huff, she begins to backtrack, going farther inland than she has before. She has kept to the coast, mostly, thinking that perhaps her littermate has found a home by the sea he loves so well. There is a whole world, however, beyond the waves, and she has barely scraped the surface of it. Seren cannot tarry long here, but she has to try, for the sake of Mynydd. She will never live with herself if Llewellyn still breathes and she cannot find him.

Alarm bells go off in her head as the faint murmur of a wolf in full flight across snow reaches her ears, and her head shoots up, her eyes flashing with panic as they search. It is so empty, mostly open land, and so, where—who—

There is a streak of gold headed her way, coming diagonally from the left. Bright as the sun.

She meets him halfway, and the two collide like stars,

And the explosion that results is one of tears and laughter—of complete and utter astonishment.