Finding what is lost

He waited at her door perhaps longer than a master should have for their slave. His patience won out when he heard movement inside that resulted in the door creeping open. Ignita stopped there, glancing at him only once before her eyes hit the floor. Leaving him to freely assess her. She was a weak little wolf, one who couldn't learn to fight if her life depended on it. Pray, victim, slave. Hazel was his childhood best friend, someone he had shared everything with. She had proven her strength time and time again when life gave her a shitty hand and she rose above it. Logically, there was no way this scrap of a thing could endanger that. He thought of how she had looked when he had found her fallen from the ladder. Or her expression when he had given her gifts, charcoal and warm blankets. 


He stood there for too long, before he shook his head. Admitting to himself that he didn't understand his own emotions. “perhaps not, but follow me down to the forge and perhaps together we can access what materials he was missing for the broaches. Perhaps from there we can figure out where he would have gone.