Firefly Glen [PHE] you don't know me liked you used to

Etienne startled, turning and speaking the language Anselm had never bothered to learn. A pang of guilt rifled through him to hear — and feel — how he’d missed that strange and alien tongue. 

A log had done this? Anselm’s tired gaze raked in the scene, trying — and failing — to find a way to show a shrivel of empathy for his hurt hunt-brother (and more), pride and dignity intact. He was about to answer Etienne’s question when —

Suddenly, a voice he knows through and through pierces the air. Anselm’s head whipped around instantly, his stomach and heart both simultaneously dropping and rising like stone hurled over a mountain. Ezra! His son!

Ezra! Anselm is gone from Etienne’s side in an instant, long limbs carrying him to his son where he reached and scooped him up and pulled him tightly to his chest in an embrace that threatened to never let him go. A half-sob threatened to expose how weak of a man he was; he lodged it deep in his throat. 

It is what Ezra said that caused him to set the boy down at length, brow furrowing in both confusion and a revived sense of hurt. No one — other than Etienne — from Rivenwood had cared for his side of the story. He’d lived with this seeming truth these last few months and felt despair in every molecule: he’d lost it all to a usurper, and no one seemed to have cared. 

But Ezra cared. Anselm could nearly cry. Amadeo had damn near killed him. He wasn’t whole, but things might be okay now. Gideon is vith me, Anselm choked out in a voice more unsteady than he’d like to admit. Oh, Ezra — He hugged him fiercely again. It vill be okay. I am so glad to have found you.

There is one question lingering in the air Anselm dare not utter, noting the glaring absence of  Heda behind her son.