She led the boy home.

In a way, Carnesîr reminded herself of her own adolescence; the sadness, the wonder, the fanciful notions of adulthood which seemed so far away, yet so frighteningly near. She remembered being so restless and naïve, so brash and vocal and clueless—the future seemed like a thing she could wish into perfection, as if with a few lions' teeth and falling stars she could right the wrongs that had been dealt to her. Adolescence had been a blur of rainy springs and rainy summers and rainy autumns, wistfulness and anger and transient bouts of happiness. A smile played on her lips as they waited by the gates of her home, and she thought about her father, utterly untouchable; he was like some idol, some statue of divinity, some insurmountable god—he was as unpredictable as the sea itself, coming in and out of her life and causing both great happiness and great grief. She lived upon the whispers of his legend—Nepdon the Great, Nepdon the Raindancer, sad and wonderful and fierce, king of the Tides, envoy of Cinnoru. She never realized that he, just as she, was vulnerable and mortal.

They did not have to wait long until someone harked their arrival. She listened to the distant thrumming of hooves become louder and louder, until they seemed to rattle her bones. A figure neared them, illuminated by starlight. Her breath caught, the tracing the achingly familiarity of his gait, of the muscles that rippled beneath that sterling hide. She tilted her head, gaze changing imperceptibly as the Reaper neared. One might have discounted their familiarity if not for the gaze they passed, soundless and lingering, a thousand words caught within a fraction of a second.

The general and the boy pass words, questions, answers, and all the while the roan mare stands quietly, a hind hoof cocked calmly. What do you seek here? Deimos queried, stony. This question piqued the girl's attention; "A home," Huyana interrupted softly, glancing at her young ward, the ghost of a smile playing in her rainblue eyes. She cleared her voice, turning her glance to the general, tilting her head curiously. "He seeks a home," the roan paused, allowing herself a breath. She did not know much about this Carnesîr, but she hoped to soften the severity of the General's scrutiny with her words. "He comes from far away," she said, as it were an afterthought, but her gaze suggests otherwise. Be gentle.