Thunder Dome ambergris

Sometimes he yearned for that carefree Summer of his childhood - the only one he'd ever shared with his mothers and brother. Sundance often caught himself thinking back on those lazy mornings when he'd watch Olive work her garden, her fur gilded by dawnlight. He'd remember afternoons by the water with Atwood and Reif, the musical note of their collective laughter. Life had robbed him of so very much in that first year, and had been cruel enough to remind him regularly of how much he'd missed.

He'd tried to move on from it, of course. He'd tried to find happiness away from the lands he'd been born to, having convinced himself that they were cursed. Teya and Bridget would've been better off without him, free of the darkness that followed him wherever he went.

But Sundance had never forgotten them.

He sought the gaze of his long-lost companion, and as she gazed back at him he recognised the quickening of his wild heart. There came a swell of a sad, hopeful love in his chest - that which he'd carried with him over the long years, which threatened to rise now like a crescendo ready to crash. Sundance swallowed, took a tentative step closer and encouraged her to him with a low note, his attention only for her as the rain continued to pour.