Ocean's Breath Plateau son

The oceans were growing colder by the day. Battered by wind and high tides, his isolated prison at sea had reminded him for each hour that passed, until as the sun began to rise on what felt like months ago (though it had only been a day) his head lifted to see calm waters and the distant shore.

He was thin now, unrecogniseably so. It was felt worse than before as he stood damp and unfed on the shore. What would maman think of him now? Would she think anything at all? He half expected her to come running over the hills as she had so many times before, but for all of his clouded thoughts and forgotten memories he still knew how she had moved on. There was nobody here for him; not brothers, nor aunts or grandmothers, certainly not his sons or daughter.

Coughing up ocean water, he stumbled into the sand. Turning his gaze to what remained of the head of the pelt which hung over him, he managed a smile. Au moins je t'ai, Phobos. The herbalist had been through it all with him. Phobos had never left his side. They had forgiven each other for their crimes, talked through long nights, and when bugs began to chew at skin that smelled of rot he had found a way to keep Phobos close to him forever.

Everything he knew of himself now came from stories they shared. It was how he remembered his own name. Chaudry de Cigue. That was who he was, who he wanted to return to.