Ravensblood Forest father of the year

Aure's healing had helped, but Vercingetorix was still dragging himself from the fever, his wounds on the mend. Physically, he was not in peak condition, and mentally, well. . . Let's just say the fever had addled his brains, somewhat.

Which was why, when he was unable to track down his son, he assumed it was his mind playing tricks on him. And then he stumbled upon the last strong traces of Dragomir's scent, mingled with others, and rage and fear and disbelief crashed down on him all at once.

DRAGOMIR!!

His rasping voice crackled loudly through the trees like thunder and lightning mingled together, startling birds from roosts and small prey from their burrows. He looked in every nook and cranny, searching for the boy. Panic grew, cresting like a wave until it spilled over and he was practically frothing at the mouth, panting, stammering, eyes sharp with terror even despite the fever glaze.

DRAGOMIR!

He shouted again upon the tail end of his search here. Then, nostrils flared wide, he began to follow the bread crumbs left behind, the faint, meandering scent trail of his son. Where it would lead, what he would find. . .

Nightmare scenarios flashed through his head, but he kept them at bay. He just needed to find the boy, as soon as fucking possible.