Ocean's Breath Plateau tagadal

They would not let him leave. Dutch, particularly, had been no help in escaping the seaside pack. Instead, he was told constantly to rest, recover — but could Dutch not understand that rest would not come to him until he could see the faces of his daughters and his wife once more?

It rankled him that he still needed the other man's cooperation. That he could scarcely get past the borders without his cousin's shoulder to lean on.

He had set off again on the dawn of this new day, determined this time to press onward until he reached the spine. Exhaustion pulled at his nearly skeletal frame, but to his consternation, he did feel more strength after a night of restless slumber. Sorer, too, but he had endured much pain in his life. A little more was hardly a payment worth fussing over.

He had already passed the borders when he heard her voice.

"Lilyflower," he breathed, tears already swimming in his eyes.

He spun toward the sound, joints creaking, and forced himself into an ungainly lope. The shape of her was blurred by overflowing emotion, but he recognized the pale, sun-kissed shade of her even on a larger, less familiar frame.

"Nantahala," he called, his voice hoarse and choked. "Lily — "

He stumbled, his foreleg folding beneath him in a tight rictus. Cramps such at these were familiar to him, now, and he pushed himself back up to continue limping closer. And it was only then that he wondered if his appearance would frighten or disgust her. If she would even recognize him like this. If she would recognize him at all.