Moonspear I can laugh at your jokes, convince you to take me home

he had been the last his parents would ever birth — not that he knew that specifically but —

he had never been present for a birth. even now he was only a ghost. gangly and lean and perhaps haunting. each sound had instilled some deep fear in him and the nauseating waves of bloody scent had nearly had him stumbling off to anxiously vomit.

yet he returned and stayed still in case he was called upon.

eventually he sat, then laid. a cautious gaze casted out over the lands.

he felt every bit a protector (even in his terrible condition) for nasamik in these moments. she had tended him when he had joined her hearth. they shared time together while he still healed in other ways.

and the seal hunter! a brother in all ways, even if not by blood. which meant he too must be here for him as well. prepared to offer back the support he had been given during his own troubled hours.

only a soft cry within finally pierced the air. then there was an exchange of words he did not hear. seal hunter called for them. only to come out with — something.

the healing boy only cautiously peered within the den. not sure that nasamik would welcome him so swiftly. still his voice croaked carefully.

nasamik...?