There was no way to recognize if they were heading in the correct direction. This was something Larus did not think about at all. While he hung from the woman's grip, his mind drifted. The littlest Sveijarn thought of Valtyr and how glad he'd be to see his brother again; he pictured Maera and Jokull, pining after the abrasive manner with which they played with him - the sensation of Maera laying her head on top of his pudgy sides as they drifted to sleep. Above all, Larus wanted his mother. And as the pair moved through the trees and towards the rocky terrain of the coast, the child began to slumber in earnest. He didn't hear the sound of Caiaphas' voice, nor feel the tremble of it through his skin.
But he was aware of the fall. When her jaws parted and his body was cast upon the ground he was jarred awake. The first thing he saw was the dark cave - the next, the subtle silhouette of the woman as she slipped inside. Larus sat for a moment and blinked away his confusion. For the briefest of moments the boy thought he was home. The Sveijarn family hadn't been too settled in to the glacier lands and Larus was cursed with a poor memory, thus in witnessing the cave he thought, 'I did it!'
Roused by the potential of seeing his family again, he was up on his feet and bounding in to the dark without a second thought. Valtyr?
He called in to the chasm, Mae? Jo? Mama?
With each utterance his pitch increased. Despite the pervasive darkness - and a very basic sense of alienation which crept up his spine - Larus was intent. And then his face slammed against his rescuer's legs, and he was brought right down to earth, literally and figuratively. His hopes, therefore, were completely dashed.