Silverlight Terrace here's to the ones who dream

He spoke, and Hydra listened well. By listening, he had said. She was silent and wondered at the meaning of it, when he continued and explained. Hydra wondered what did not belong, but she recalled the last time she had ever seen him. Are you brave, Rian? Perhaps he had not been, then. Maybe her words were the cause of him leaving. Who was to know? He had never told her. 

I looked for you, Hydra spoke then, you left—I thought you... she need not say it. They had traveled briefly together, and then he had gone without a word, without a trace. It mattered not, now; it was not so. Her shoulders seemed to sag some with relief. He really was here, and did see fit to explain as opposed to argue. That had to mean something, did it not? Something had to of shifted; he was here now. He could have began his journey in any other corner of the Wilds, could have called for his brothers. But the mountain he had looked to had been her own. 

He had said he had changed; he hoped for it to be enough. Hydra hoped he had taken the part of him that ran away; how could she rip that desire out of him? But maybe he had done it himself. Are you brave, Rian? Came her soft inquiry, an echo to the last time she had ever seen him. To face all that they may come against. Hydra was brave, for her future had always felt so certain—but seeing him here, now... nothing was certain, was it?  

All the more reason to be brave, she supposed. For this surprise, she had to admit, was not an unpleasant one.