i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

He had caught sight of her. Finally. Not his sight, but close enough. Closer than he’s ever been. A distant glimpse of a memory, of the future coiling in uncertain lines, had set him on her path. And Reave, persistent, stubborn, reckless creature that he is, had followed it without hesitation. Anyone else would have said this is a fool’s errand. Anyone sane. But it’s very possible he hasn’t been for a long time. If he ever had been.

Whipping through so many visions while he moves takes a toll, but he hardly cares. If practice builds stamina, he should be ready for a marathon after this. Assuming he doesn’t burn himself out first. Always a possibility, but one he refuses to pay heed to. Not when he’d been searching for years. Not when he had finally, finally seen her.

When he finally locks on, he nearly stumbles a step, breath hitching inside his chest. Rune shrieks overhead, the sound distant in the sparse clouds. The bird shoots forward with predatory speed, sharp eyes roaming the ground below. Reave follows at a sprint, though he is no match for the eagle’s speed.

Rune sees her first, though they are so connected it may as well have been Reave. It’s minutes before he breaks through the trees however. Minutes before his own eyes latch onto that long-awaited sight.

He skids to a halt, ribs heaving and eyes wild. His red and white coat is damp with sweat and littered with debris and scratches from the undergrowth he had heedlessly charged through. He looks every bit as feral as he feels, but when his gaze settles on her, he stills. For a moment, he almost can’t believe his search is finally over. When he is finally able to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, his voice is low and trembling when he asks, “Mom?”