Nova Peak foundling-bird

his son, his son returned, his child lost once and found again — had mahler known what wintersbane had done for sagtannet, he would have demanded the welcome for a proper hero and brother.
but he did not; the gargoyle knew only the joy pouring ragged and harsh into his chest, the warm press of wylla between them, the surreal sound of thade's voice forming sentences and words where he had not yet been old enough to speak so,
when he had disappeared,
he shoved it from his mind, charcoal ears tipping forward. "mother," he repeated, lavender gaze shifting in curious worry to wylla's sculpted face. "she took you?" and fury threatened now his delight, though he kept a chain upon it for now.
but how had this happened? and how close had thade been, all this time, that the wolves of sagtannet had not found him, that this woman had escaped their notice?