Mudminnow River If I ever were to lose you, I'd surely lose myself.

No sooner had the syllables tumbled from her maw did the gargoyle sweep forward. Ciri moved toward him, an eagerness in her to close the distance between them and fit herself against him, but her father stopped short.

Her travel-worn muscles tightened. Her heart skipped a beat - painfully aware of how he did not reach for her.

Ciri had longed for this day. She'd spent that lonely time between wakefulness and slumber longing for a happy reunion, to be welcomed, to feel wanted. Her father was, after all, the only thing she had left in the world that mattered.

Instead of warmth and affection, of excitement to see her risen from the dead, Cirilla was instead met with what he thought - what others had told him. Her thoughts turned briefly to the father she'd met in the woods, to his desperate search for his own young daughter - unwillingness in him to consider that she might've been claimed by the wilds.

Did you ever look for me?

Her mouth dried. She stared up at him, tears pricking the corners of her solemn yellow eyes as he mentioned her sister's name - oh, Elke! - then felt the threat of a sob as she parted her jaws to speak.

It didn't matter what had happened.

It didn't matter where she'd been.

She was there now.

"I found you," was all that she could say to him, as the tsunami of emotion brought her once more to her knees. No one ever found me.