The call echoed across the mountains, rolling through stone and pine until it reached him, bringing Hexx to a stop, he listened.

The voice was familiar, though slightly deeper than memory had preserved it. Time had changed it worn away the remnants of youth that lingered still before he'd gone, but recognition came without effort. There were few voices he committed to memory, and fewer still that remained there. His paws shifted beneath him carrying him toward the source with the same steady cadence that marked every step he took.

The forest thinned, and a boy split by gold and night stood against the mountain's stone like a shard of sunlight fallen from the sky. Hexx came to a stop and for several moments, he simply looked.

The last image he carried of Alric belonged to a younger wolf even though it was a few months ago it was one still caught somewhere between childhood and adulthood. The figure before him had shed much of that softness, his frame had lengthened muscle settling naturally beneath his coat, the awkward proportions of adolescence giving way to something more capable. Dust and weather clung to him in subtle ways only another traveler would notice.

And more importantly, he was alive and he was here.

The thought should have brought relief. If it did it failed to reach the surface. Whatever part of him had once known how to express such things had long since gone silent. He acknowledged the fact much as he acknowledged the weather or the terrain beneath his paws. His son was here, and it was enough. So he crossed the final distance between them.

Without ceremony, he rested his forehead briefly against Alric's before withdrawing again. The gesture was instinctive, older than memory, something preserved despite everything else within him having eroded. And something he had done since the boys were very young.

You made it here, he rumbled, his cold silver eyes searching Alric again, for evidence of injury. He was content to find none.

—