this is for the lions

In his last year on the road, Ivy had... he'd seen some shit.  He'd been through some shit.  It was all shit he would try not to think about, try not to give too much heed to.  Didn't matter.  Didn't matter what was on the other side of hell, when he was here.  Back home.  Back home?  What was left of it.  Dully, Ivy wonders what's left of his family.  Fuck.  

Dragging himself into the Mangrove, the autumn sun was already damn near slipping from the horizon.  Navy and orange sunset spread splendidly across the western sky-- it's already night in the east, from whence he's come.  Starting to come to life around him, he knows it's beautiful here at night.  A deep breath in his lungs... Boreas.  The exhaustion may have been bone-deep, but he's home.  Ivy finds a dry, sheltered spot at the base of a mangrove tree to rest.  

"Ivy"