Wapun Meadow Already wrote several letters to you

An adult.

Before the word could even fully leave her mouth, he snorted. An adult? She was not even aware of who Desna—who her mother—was. Although, perhaps that was not so much her fault as it was her mother’s; he honestly wasn’t surprised that she didn’t know Valette’s original name, given that she’d shed it so long ago. But that didn’t matter, not really.

“Do you think being an adult has anything to do with why you shouldn’t be out here?” he asked, snorting again. “What would you have done if I’d attacked you? Would you have been able to protect yourself?” He doubted it. She was small, at least smaller than him, and too trusting—just like her grandmother, who the thought of felt like a knife being twisted into his side. Even though he knew she was dead, even though she had never come back to save him, he almost wished that it was her standing there and not his niece.

But it wasn’t Scarlett and it never would be, because the dead could not rise again.

Who he was to her seemed to register in her head then, which he knew was going to happen sooner or later. What he didn’t expect, however, was his daughter’s name to part from her lips. Or, well, a version of it. “Nunataq,” he corrected. “How do you know my daughter?” Did that mean that she knew where she was, too? Whether or not she did, he wasn’t so sure what he’d do with that information; to search for her now, he wondered if she would even remember him. But that wasn’t supposed to be the point of this, he was supposed to focus on the other albino before him. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Just go home.” She belonged to a part of their family that he wasn’t made for, not anymore.