The call came from a voice he had been longing to hear throughout the summer and well into autumn. He hoped, prayed, longing to hear his father?s call across the lands of Threar. He was terrified to think of the alternative option, and when the call was heard it didn?t matter what he had been doing -- it was dropped immediately. He would turn, legs pumping across the lands as he broke into a full run, praying his mind wasn?t playing tricks on him as he rushed to see a man he?d not seen enough in his life; his father.
When Gitan came into view, just seeing how his father sat, told him he was in place. F?licien would give a soft whine, coming close to his father and seeing the sorry state he was in. A mess... A story told by his body that he had been injured... In the storm. F?licien would come closer, slowing, long to nuzzle him, yet worried he might hurt him further. Gaze was full of both relief yet mingling with worry. "Dad... You're home."
"Speech"
