Wapun Meadow Already wrote several letters to you

Mistaken.

Alexander was never wrong, he couldn’t be, but this... perhaps, just this once, he was. As the girl cowered, he saw his mother, but her speech made him doubtful; the tone, the pitch, the words—nothing matched. He took a step back but his eyes never left hers, ensnared by the face he thought he’d never see again. But there it was, now worn by someone else.

“Your grandmother...?” he repeated back carefully. “Desna’s daughter? No, Valette’s.” The correction was quick, albeit absentminded, his thoughts redirected elsewhere. Of course Desna would have a child that looked like their mother—all of his sisters would likely birth a replica of her, he was certain. More faces to haunt him, more troubles to add onto that which he was already dealing with.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said shortly thereafter. “Go home.” Home. Shouldn’t he be making his way home, too? To the valley, where he was always meant to be. Or maybe that wasn’t home anymore—he certainly couldn’t say for sure.