— I'll break you a hundred different ways —
In a rare moment of solitude, he winds through the thick foliage and brush of Tephra. It was quieter now, with the oldest four of their children now grown, though it was not uncommon for them to come and go from the family’s nearly private area of the territory. Rosine was less and less frequent, but he did not find that surprising; she had always been prone to wandering away from her siblings, and he didn’t think it was likely that she would plant her roots in Tephra. Tamlin and Bea did not seem to stray far, and accompanied by the twins it was easy to forget there was a world that existed outside of their own.
It was almost chaotic enough that the absence of Thorn could have gone unnoticed, if it was not something that gnawed relentlessly at the back of Nightlock’s mind. He would hardly claim to be a good father; he was still too stoic for his own good, and all of his love for his children was still frequently trapped beneath layers of hardened indifference that he likely would never shed. But, it was there. Buried or not, it existed, and his subconscious would not let him forget it.
Up ahead his gaze narrows onto a familiar form, and even though the young stallion’s back is to him, he recognizes him instantly. He lengthens the stride of his walk just enough to slowly begin to close the gap between them, though there is no rush to his pace. He tracks him long enough to try and decipher if he was purposely avoiding him, or if he truly did not see him. “Thorn,” and the strength of his voice in the silence sends more birds fluttering for higher branches, giving his son no choice but to turn and face him.
— and I'll make you remember my face —
