Redhawk Caldera Homeward Bound

The Caldera came in to view as he climbed the hill but even after noticing it, Mou's gait did not change. His head hung level with his chest, making his gaunt shoulders stand out, while the rest of him was slovenly, with bits of debris from his travels still clinging to his sparse silver-white coat. The look of a defeated man.

His wife was dead. His children gone. What was left of his family was in the wind - or it was here, living in the comfort of the Caldera and the family that had, at least once before, excommunicated him. He had nothing.

Prevost? Lost. The vestiges of connection, family, normalcy that the child represented to Mou, shattered weeks ago. Yet here he was climbing the hill anyway. Finding his way back to the roost. And when Mou traipsed across the border, he noticed absences there too.