At the beginning

How long had it been since his family had walked these paths between the trees of these woods? How many years had passed since the Carpathians had heard the rushing of the cascading falls that had once been all he and his siblings could hear from the shelter of their family's den at the peak? Had his mother ever come back here since they had left just before that cataclysmic ice age—since before Resin died? These questions swam in a sea of nostalgia and wistful melancholy as Artorias led the way north through the woods towards the sounds of the falls, his mother close beside him.

They had to cross into Valta lands to revisit their first home and his birth home, but thankfully Kotori and he were close, and the Hallows and Valta shared an alliance. He still gave a short call to announce his presence so no one mistook them as trespassers when they crossed over the border. Giant paws crunching soft powdery snow underfoot, Art was glad to see there was little more than an inch or two of snow on the ground. The winter seemed mild by Boreas' standards; it would pose little difficulty for his aging mother.

Artorias glanced over to Tamsyn as the thought crossed his mind, smiling as bright amber eyes met his mother's form. She had wanted to take a special trip with him back to their first home—one last time. Although Art had been concerned over Tam's ability to travel in her advanced age, his mother continued to astound him with the strength of her indomitable spirit. She powered on through their journey like the true guru adventurer she was, and though there were more breaks and rests in between, Artorias didn't mind giving Tamsyn a breather whenever she needed it. She was an impressive wolf and a hero in his eyes for making this journey almost entirely on her own strength.

A loving smile touched Art's lips, the dire wolf mama's boy leaning over to gently nudge her side with his own, just a gentle brush and nothing to risk knocking her over. "How's it feel to be back?" he asked, his breath hanging in wispy clouds of humidity at the end of his snout. If he was feeling this wistful, he could only imagine how his mother must be feeling right now...

"Talk" | "Carpathian"