Dragoncrest Cliffs near-sighted

Svalinn hung back as mother and son reunited. This is what it had all been for anyway. It didn’t matter that it hurt to see her so casually seated at the borders before noticing her baby boy. It didn’t matter that she was not so eager to see or hear from him. It didn’t matter that her graceful, deer-like sprint was not for him.

This. This reunion was what it had all been for.

He kept reminding himself of that, while his soul ached to embrace her, too. While his mind fractured with a thousand thoughts of being alone with her, able to shower her with long lost affection. He realized in this moment that he loved her, and at the same time that she did not feel the same about him.

Heartbroken, he watched, glancing a prowling Sobeille in the background.

The raybearer noticed that Chacal did not speak, though her eyes were questioning. Jean-Heron either didn’t notice the look or didn’t care to explain, so Svalinn quietly colored in the silence.

He got caught in a riptide down in the sound. I went in after him. Instinct more than choice. He remembered with terrible clarity how he had been able to propel them both out of the undertow by swimming parallel to the beach; how he’d been too exhausted to bring them the rest of the way to the shore; the tired panic that flooded through him as Ankyra’s beach got smaller and smaller while they drifted out to sea.

We washed up somewhere, some island just off the mainland, but his leg… I don’t know what happened. I didn’t see any injuries, he just couldn’t walk… It took a while for him to recover. He still can’t swim very well, not without help.