Chapter Text
天涯的尽头是风沙
The end of skyline is windy and dusty
红尘的故事叫牵挂
The story of mortal world is called having someone in your heart
封刀隐没在寻常人家东篱下
Abandoned my sword and concealed myself in ordinary household, under the eastern fence
闲云 野鹤 古刹
Floating clouds, wild cranes, old temples
….
Records from the Owl Alliance Information Guild’s Archive,
Year xx2, 162 years after the fall of X empire.
The situation was dire in the central plains after the rebellion broke out and the ruling Alberich clan of the Middle Kingdom fell overnight. The new ruler might have strong backing from several prominent nobles in the capital but much of the feudal lords in the area refused to acknowledge the new government. The new king is struggling with the insubordination from his court and the effort to hunt down the remaining members of the Alberich clan.
The King has requested neighboring kingdoms to aid in their search, citing future alliances and partnerships. The North, longtime Allies of the Alberich clan had refused, the East asked for large amounts of tributary and concessions no sane rulers would agree to in exchange for their cooperation. Other kingdoms have yet to respond to the demand.
The economic alliance between the Middle Kingdom and the Southwest has been partially halted for the time being due to the heightened tension. Heightened security checks have been spotted at the border for both merchants and adventurers. Most merchants have been trying to circumvent the checks by passing through the Southern territory’s desert or passing through the mountain range at the western border.
-C.K, spring xx2-
….
Distant as he was to his extended family, Thrain was not such a heartless person not to mourn their sudden demise. While he never was close to them and was fed up by all their endless political intrigues and petty power play he was forced to participate every time they yanked him out from his war tent at the frontier and got him to attend their dysfunctional family function, he still felt the loss from their death deeply.
He never liked his cousins, but his great uncle has been kind to him all his life, especially after he lost both of his parents. Growing up as an orphan, he was spared from the worst of the bloody power struggle as he grew up due to his uncle’s obvious support behind him and so after he finally proved himself to be the strongest warrior his country could have, he chose to repay his uncle’s kindness by pulling away from the fight for the throne and retreated to the frontier, avoided all the power struggle. If only it all went according to his plan, he’d stay indefinitely on the battlefield, devoting himself to the country while rejecting all marriage offers from other families who seek to benefit from his status and standings and die without leaving any heir that can threaten the main branch’s succession line.
And yet such a simple dream was shattered when his distance to the crown instead spared him from the tragedy that almost wiped out his whole relatives.
Even though he managed to escape from his family’s purge, he and his squad were still one of the primary targets for the monarch who’s determined to erase any threat to his claim to the throne. Cut off from supplies and hunted by the new king’s army for months, they barely managed to avoid the ambush. In the end, in an attempt to shake off their pursuer, Thrain had to distract them by using himself as bait and luring the pursuers into the wilderness, giving orders to his men to hid themselves and put their own safety as a priority. In his heart, he had a feeling that it might be their last meeting and yet he refused to say it out loud.
After a few days and no sign of his pursuers giving up, Thrain had to admit he had underestimated the enemies. With no maps and no signs to guide him, he keeps moving, unsure how far he had strayed from the beaten path and how far he had been separated from his troops. Dehydrated and worn out, he cursed as they manage to ambush him as he passes through what he thinks must be the southwest mountain range.
Even outnumbered and weakened, Thrain was not one to go down without a fight, not even when he realized they have prepared enough poison to kill a beast just for him. By the end, even when he managed to defeat every single one of them, he didn't exactly get away without a scratch. As he drags his injured body away, it seems Thrain’s misfortune hasn’t ended when he hears a loud explosion above, it seems they had prepared to create a landslide to finish the job regardless of the outcome of the battle. Truly, his pursuers had been no less determined than him, resolved to kill him in any way possible even after their death. Gritting his teeth, Thrain converted all his spite into the last burst of strength to get away, even knowing that it was futile.
The last thing Thrain remembers as he loses consciousness is cursing his fate and swears that even after his death he’d exact revenge somehow on the ones who had wronged him.
Such an unfortunate end he ends up with.
...
Being one of the few in his clan who does not have to participate in yearly swordsmanship assembly preparation, Ororon volunteered himself to go and pick medicinal grass at the valley at the side of the mountain. Granny had always disliked the idea of him going down the mountain for a long period by himself but with everyone busy and the demands for medicinal herbs soaring during competition season, she had no choice but to let him go, while still forced him to bring Citlalin, her spiritual beast with him.
It was a bit unnecessary, he thought, not daring to voice it in front of granny. His weak constitution did not allow him to learn martial arts as intensely as others in his clan but he was not such a hopeless case that he couldn't keep himself safe around the mountain. He has been roaming freely since he’s half his current height, okay? But still, at least with Citlalin around it would be much easier to carry stuff back home.
As if reminding him never to dismiss granny’s incredible foresight., sure enough, Citlalin turned out to be more useful than he ever expected when he ended up bringing back not only a bunch of herbs but also an extra large baggage he wouldn’t be able to carry home himself.
Ororon discovered the man’s body clad in muddy, bloody armor not far from what seemed like a recent landslide. It seems that the man had dragged himself from underneath the debris with the last of his strength only to run out of strength after reaching the small stream nearby. Ororon had thought it was fortunate the debris didn’t manage to block the waterway and was going to move the body to give him a proper burial before the corpse tainted the water but instead found the man still breathing.
Huh.
To survive after all this, the man must have exceptional inner strength or luck. Either way, it seemed the heavens had sent him to Ororon’s hand, as if telling him to do something.
At a loss for what to do, Ororon finally decided to help the unfortunate soldier. Even with granny’s warnings about strangers insistently blaring on the back of his head, Ororon took out his first aid kit and a small knife, freeing the man from his beaten-up armor to check on his condition. To his surprise, aside from several broken bones and scrapes, he found no life-threatening injuries. That’s good, he wouldn’t need to ask the elders or granny to help with just this.
After he had given the man some first aid, Ororon decided that his condition did not require further immediate attention and resumed gathering the herbs he needed before returning to the still-unconscious man and making Citlalin haul him back home for further treatment. Granny and others probably wouldn’t be happy about him bringing an outsider to the mountain. But since he already started with the treatment, it would be a pity not to follow through until this person was fully healed right?
….
Consciousness came in bits and pieces slowly for him as he struggled to open his eyes. Even with his mind foggy and disoriented, Thrain was sure death should not feel like what he was feeling right now.
How did he survive? His whole body feels like it’s been trampled by a thousand horses, and yet the pain is dull as if he had disconnected from his senses. This familiar sensation, it’s probably the effect of painkillers. But how? Who?
Just when he was thinking about the implications of his condition, he suddenly felt the touch of a callused hand on his face, someone opening his mouth and passing a bitter concoction. The sensation finally jolted his brain to awaken fully, kicked up his fight or flee reaction to instinctively defend himself from the stranger touching him. Thrain pushed the person off from him with all the strength he could muster. With a throbbing head, Thrain slowly managed to adjust his sight enough to perceive his surroundings.
A simple hut in southeastern kingdom style with medicinal herbs hanging from the ceiling rafters, the strong smell of something brewing from the pot at the stove similar to the concoction he spilled all over himself just now, and a young man, probably just reached adulthood recently, sprawled at the floor looking at him, his mouth gaped in surprise, with wronged expression.
The relief he felt after he realized he was not taken by enemies was short-lived, replaced by the guilt towards what he assumed was his savior.
“I..,” he started, trying to apologize only for another wave of headache and nausea washed over him, sending him toppling over as the young man rushed over to prevent him from unceremoniously hitting the floor. The young man’s touch feels like a cooling salve against his skin, giving him the realization of the fever racking through his body.
“You’re not recovered yet.” He heard the young man's chiding tone as his eyelids grew heavier with each second. “At least if you’re healthy enough to make a fuss, you should heal nicely soon.”
Deciding that it was safe for him, Thrain no longer fought back and let his consciousness slip away, lulled by the stranger’s babbling as he sank into another slumber.
After that, the short period of lucidity he had was merely blotches where he remembered vomiting his guts out or being barely awake as the young man helped him to drink bowls of medicine.
It was already at dusk when his fever finally receded enough for him to regain consciousness fully. He was not sure how many days had passed. His head no longer killed him, but the numbness persisted, as well as the bitter taste sticking to his mouth, no doubt from the concoction his savior made him drink in his sleep. Experimentally moving his bandaged hand, Thrain was relieved to find his limbs were still working even though there were still some pangs that he assumed were from fractures and muscle trauma.
This time, the young man was nowhere to be seen, leaving him alone in the hut. Thrain scanned the room he was in, which was also seemingly the only room in the house. He had seen the herbs before but on second look, he could see the desk with tools to process medicinal herbs, the incense holders and smattering of ritual tools on the shelves, and what seemed like a bunch of farming equipment. Such an eclectic interest, he started to wonder what kind of person the man who had saved him was. A doctor? A spiritualist? A farmer? And yet the appearance of his savior was only of a youth.
Just as he pondered about the young man’s identity, he heard loud noises from the outside. Alarmed, Thrain forced himself to sit, frantically trying to find something to defend himself and is beyond shocked when he finds his armor and sword propped at the bedside. Did the enemies find him? Did they do something to the youth who brought him here? Grabbing his sword, Thrain ignored the ache throughout his body and prepared himself to fight the coming intruder until his last breath as he heard the noises get closer.
When the door finally kicked open, Thrain had expected a bunch of enemy soldiers to lunge at him and instead found himself staring at a very angry-looking petite woman and the youth who saved him dragged behind her with looks of distress visible on his face. The woman glared at him pointing his sword towards the door, then back at the youth, and then returned her sight at him with a clear disdain on her face.
“Well, isn’t he looking spry already? See? I told you he’s dangerous! We can kick him out now!” She said dryly, as Thrain once again overcame guilt and relief for his aggressive display. Is this woman the youth’s wife? His presence must’ve burdened them a lot and caused an argument between the couple’s-
“Granny, I told you it’s fine.” The young man’s words once again gave him enough whiplash to question himself if he heard it correctly. “He was just startled since you are being nois- Mmph!? Ow! Sorry! Sorry!”
Thrain tried not to show his disapproval on his face watching the woman pull the young man’s ear and give a good slap to his behind. But, wait, granny? How old are these people? He had known some of the races had longer life spans before, and with the trinkets at this house, he felt like he could deduce the identity of his saviors now.
In his frantic escape, he must’ve reached deep into the southwestern kingdom territory. If that so, then these people must be the members of the Night Wind mountain hermits he had heard of before. A clan of reclusive cultivator in southwestern territory dwelling in the misty mountaintops, rarely allowing contact with outsiders and abhors being involved in worldly matters.
It seems fate still favored him for him to end up being saved by one of their clansmen. And yet it seems that his savior, the youth is in quite a trouble with his elder for aiding him as he squared off against the woman half his size and yet ten times more imposing than most matriarch Thrain ever met.
“You little brat never listens to what I say, do you?! What are you thinking? bringing this.. this..,” The woman threw a withering glance at Thrain with all disdain she could muster then back to her grandson. “Anyway! Even if you can’t leave injured people alone, why didn’t you just leave him back there after treating him!? You know our rule not to bring strangers to the clan!”
“But.. my house is outside the clan’s main area..”
“You’re one of the clan! Your house is part of the clan’s territory!” The woman’s face alternated between red and purple as she moved animatedly while the young man looked at her with a stubborn pout she definitely did not appreciate.
“That’s not true. According to the kingdom’s property law..”
“WHO CARES ABOUT PROPERTY LAW. THAT’S NOT THE PROBLEM HERE!” She yelled at him. Meanwhile, Thrain was still cluelessly sitting on the bed, unsure if he should interfere with the spat he caused.
“Seriously, why can’t you just leave him where you found him?!” It seemed like she was determined to not acknowledge him and talk as if he wasn’t in the room with them. “You have to do something with your habit of picking up strays!”
“But..If I’m not monitoring it.. what if his bones don't set correctly?”
“And that’s your problem, how?” The woman put her hands on her hips, turned towards him, and stomped her way near the bed while Thrain tried his best to appear less threatening in front of her. She glanced at his face then his sword, eyes glinted in recognition before she scoffed and looked away. “Anyway. This guy is more trouble than he’s worth. He’s already awake so you can drop him at the foot of the mountain now.”
“I’m not done with the treatment yet.” The young man stubbornly held his ground, moving between the bed and his grandma as if to shield Thrain from her. “Besides, you told me to be responsible to my patients. Are you going back on your words, granny?”
“Ororon!” Ah, so that’s his benefactor’s name. “You.. you little rascal! Why are you this stubborn! He won’t die even if you kick him out now!”
“.. I understand.” Both of the bickering parties froze as if they didn’t expect him to join the conversation. “I am already immensely grateful that you saved me. Madame is right, I better leave-”
“No. Don’t listen to granny. I haven’t finished healing your legs yet.” The young man cut him off, looking annoyed as if Thrain just betrayed him.
“I’ll put you in danger if I’m staying here.” He forced himself to smile. His pursuers are persistent. They’d stop at nothing before he’s dead, even at the cost of their lives. It would be dangerous even for the southwestern cultivators to keep him around.
“Don’t worry I already covered your tracks.” The young man lightly waved off his concerns. Thrain faintly heard the woman mutter something about how they aren’t supposed to involve themselves in these matters and how political issues are just pointless headaches. He couldn’t help but sympathize with her concerns. “My house is on the outskirts of the clan’s wards but I don’t think they can enter even this far.”
“Get. him. out. of here.” The woman gritted her teeth. “You little idiot doesn’t even know what kind of person you picked up! Do you know who this person is? What if he’s a crazy killer? Do you not have any sense of self-preservation?”
“I think he’s a good person.” Ororon shrugged, only sending his grandma to be more enraged. Ignoring her anger he strutted to the stove, filling a bowl with the soup he left slowly brewing there, and handed it to Thrain with a smile. “What’s so wrong about helping an injured soldier? Just because I help him doesn’t mean I’m breaking the clan’s rules?”
“Soldier my ass?! Did you not see the crest on his sword?!” So she truly recognized him. Thrain couldn’t help but grow anxious despite being aware that these people would not harm him but being on the run for so long had him associate his identity with dread.
“Does that matter to us? It’s not like there’s a big difference between a soldier and a general for me. Right?”
Thrain could only dumbly nod at the youth while his grandma glared daggers at him blithely before stomping away and slamming the door behind her as she threw colorful threats and warnings toward Thrain. Despite feeling lost and the ridiculousness of the recent situation, for the first time in months, he suddenly felt like he could breathe easier.
“I’m sorry about granny.” The young man, Ororon, helped him to lie down after he finished his bowl. “She has a sharp tongue and has been a bit stressed lately. She’s actually really nice.”
“It’s alright, I understand her concerns.” He let himself be guided back to the bed, feeling slightly embarrassed. Even when he was injured on the battlefield, it was never to the extent that he would need someone’s assistance to do basic movement. And even then, it was not a big deal to show his vulnerable state with his squad has been fighting with him for a long time, not a stranger like this boy. “She’s right. I might drag you into great danger if they find out you took me in.”
“Don’t worry.” The young man swiped the hair covering his eyes and started to wipe his face with a damp cloth. “It’s hard for outsiders to enter the mountain without someone from the clan to guide them. Besides, even though she said bad stuff, Granny probably is going to tell the clan head to reinforce the wards and security around here. No one will bother you as long as you’re in my place.”
Too tired to retort back, Thrain stayed silent as Ororon finished wiping the sweat off his torso before hesitating to continue and deciding to skimper away. Just as the young man finished putting away the basin, Thrain awkwardly cleared his throat to stop him.
“Yes?” The youth sits at the edge of the bed, his face illuminated by the glow from the lantern at the desk as he peered down patiently at him. “Something wrong?”
“No, I..” He trailed off, disappointed in himself for taking this long to express his gratitude. “I can’t thank you enough for saving me. If there's anything I can repay you with..”
“Don’t worry about it. Just focus on your recovery.” The young man squeezes his hand. “I forgot to tell granny but I can’t leave you there because if you die there, the poison in your blood is going to pollute the water supply for the animals in the valley. That would be so troublesome.”
The way Ororon says such a grim subject so casually finally forced Thrain to let out a short laugh. Such a ridiculous reason to save someone and yet he ended up committing to it to this extent.
“Then, thank you for not letting me become an environmental hazard.” He smiled at the young man, gradually feeling more relaxed.
“Thank you for not dying there before I arrived too. ” Ororon replied in a serious tone, giving Thrain a chuckle once again.
“I know you said it makes no difference to you what my identity is, but I have to apologize for not properly introducing myself. ” Thrain apologized sheepishly only for Ororon to look at him in confusion.
“I doubt you could. You were unconscious.” Ororon said in a deadpan tone.
“I mean.. when your grandma was here.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure how much he should divulge about his identity to the young man. “My name is Thrain.”
“I’m Ororon but you’ve heard granny called my name before so you already know anyway.”
“Yes, I’m..,” What else should he say? It wasn’t like he wanted to hide his background from Ororon but is it a good idea to involve the young man in the mess that is his life by telling him about his current situation?
“You’re from the middle kingdom’s recently fallen dynasty, aren't you? Granny taught me about other countries’ crests and identifying symbols before.” Surprisingly, just like his grandma, Ororon had recognized his background from the crests on his attire despite his seemingly airheaded appearance.
“I am.” There was no point in hiding it at this point. “The current monarch, it doesn’t seem like he’d let me live no matter what. Your grandma is right, sheltering me here brings nothing good for your clan. I'll depart as soon as I can.”
“I see.” Ororon pats him reassuringly. “Then I’ll have to make sure you’re back to your top condition before sending you down the mountain.”
“Thank you.” It seems fate has yet to forsook him. Instead of his demise, it somehow delivered him to such a kind benefactor.
The next few weeks were the most peaceful period he could remember in almost a decade. He had spent most of his life keeping his vigilance up either on the battlefield or the court, only now he realized how exhausted he had been.
His days in Ororon’s house had been slow and quiet. Ororon had insisted that he took the only bed as he was still in recovery and slept on a mat nearby despite Thrain’s protests. The youth also insisted on staying up late almost every day and woke up after the sun was already high in the sky. At first, Thrain thought he was monitoring his condition, adding to his guilt only for Ororon to flatly correct him that it’s just how the people at his clan were like, a bunch of night owls and he is one of the worst of the bunch.
By the second week, he was well enough to walk around the house and tried to help Ororon with his errands. That resulted in Ororon’s grandma, Citlali, insisting for him to be kicked out since he was already healed and caused another tense standoff between the grandma-grandson pair with the latter insisting on keeping Thrain until his limp completely healed. With his input completely ignored, Thrain decided to continue with his task and carefully picked the plump cabbages from Ororon’s garden and let the two argue about his fate.
Occasionally a pang of guilt washed over him. The contrast between this peaceful, idyllic lifestyle and the life he’s used to where he had to constantly fend for his life, where his lineage defined all aspects of his life. Such mundane life is like a forbidden fruit he was not supposed to taste in the first place. At times he was jolted awake at night, unable to distinguish his nightmare from reality, reminding him that the current peaceful life is merely a temporary thing, that he still needed to face his destiny as one of the Alberich. Forever plagued by strife and blood debts.
When it happened, Ororon would sit on his bedside, placing a hand over his shoulder in support. By the end of the night, he’d be too drained to feel ashamed, more than happy to let the young man tell him about mundane topics fill the silence, letting him drift to sleep as he continued to babble.
In the blink of an eye, his little peaceful getaway ended. With a wide smile, Ororon informed him that he had fully recovered as they took their lunch. Thrain had smiled back, his chest inexplicably stuffy despite hearing the good news. Thrain forced himself to smile back and watched Ororon happily pack rations and herbs into his rucksack, as well discussing the news he heard from the visiting merchant about safe routes. He had known this was supposed to be a temporary arrangement and yet he was almost overcome with yearning to remain at this moment.
He had yet to decide where to go after this. His pursuers definitely still hadn’t given up their mission. Ororon had told him smatterings of gossip he heard from the wandering warriors and merchants he met when he went down the mountain to sell his medicines and vegetables they put a substantial bounty on his head and dispatched a lot of their agents to find him. Staying in one place would indeed be too dangerous. With fighting being the only skillset, he had no other option but to hide himself among the crowd and the lawless world of wandering mercenaries.
As if sensing his distress, Ororon moved closer and squeezed his hand in encouragement. “It will be alright.” He said with such conviction that Thrain couldn’t help but believe him despite knowing the future couldn’t be anything but grim and uncertain.
It was later decided with Citlali’s agreement Ororon should send him down the mountain the next time he was set to deliver medicine to a nearby town at the foot of the mountain, seeing as the clan’s wards ensured outsiders would get lost without a guide.
On the day of his departure, Thrain woke up with a sense of loss in his chest. That day, Ororon’s Grandma joined them for breakfast, strangely lacking her usual acerbic remarks. For once, she did not treat him in disdain and even wished him luck for his journey before scampering away. After that, he silently helped Ororon stuff his wares into a basket before they set out for their way down the mountain. Thrain looked at the hut he stayed in for a mere couple of months with a twinge of desolation. Such a short peaceful life, he wasn’t sure he’d experience it again anytime soon.
He wasn’t sure if Ororon noticed his somber mood as they descended the mountain. Autumn had washed over the land, the leaves turned into an ochre color and the night grew longer. As their feet crushed the fallen leaves, the youth was more than glad to fill his silence telling him of local anecdotes and sharing obscure facts he couldn't help but crack a smile at. Not long after the town started to appear on their sight. As they got closer the bustle of the crowds couldn’t help but awaken Thrain’s dormant sense of vigilance. Were the new monarch’s agents already reached this place? Would anyone recognize him even no longer clad in his armor? He wasn’t used to stealth or disguising himself, anyone would recognize him as a warrior at first sight from his stature. Or maybe the citizens of this town were so used to the Night Wind clansmen warriors that they didn’t bat their eyes at the sight of him?
Thrain decided to accompany Ororon to the shop where he usually took his medicines before they had to part for good. He was aware he was dragging his feet and merely prolonged the inevitable and yet he couldn’t refuse when Ororon pulled him to get lunch after he was done and then around the city.
He only realized something was wrong when the sun started to set and Ororon seemingly had no plan to go back to the mountain yet. They were walking through the night market leisurely, the young man watched the stall owners light up their lanterns without a care in the world.
As they reached the end of the market, near the town gate, Thrain turned back to Ororon with a bitter smile as it was time for them to part.
“Eh?” Ororon looked at him in surprise after he said his goodbye as if he just said something incomprehensible.
“Huh?” What was this reaction? He was used to Ororon’s strange way of speaking by now but sometimes, he was reminded that he still couldn’t predict what kind of response he would get from the young man.
“You’re talking as if we wouldn’t meet for a long time.” Ororon tilted his head in confusion.
“Yes, I couldn’t stay in one place for long. It’s unlikely we will meet again after this.” He explained, trying not to show his melancholy. “If I could..”
“I’m going with you though?”
What.
“What?” Did his grandma know about this? Did he plan this beforehand? Suddenly Ororon’s strange enthusiasm all this time when he discussed nearby cities and road conditions was given more context. Did he miss the talk where Ororon told him he would tag along with him? Or did he expect Thrain to catch on himself?
“Wait,” His previous feeling of despondence quickly turned into panic. “Wait, you know it would be too dangerous to go with me, don’t you?”
“Don’t worry about it.” The boy lightly replied, his smile as bright as always, and yet instead of calming him down like usual, it only served to add to his mounting dread.
“Ororon..”
“I always wanted to see the world.” The youth started, face wistful. “Granny never let me go further than this town because my body is weaker than others in the clan.”
“Still..” He ran his hand through his face. Did Ororon not realize that his granny would oppose this arrangement even more? Even accounting for his frail physique, was way more risky to go with a wanted man like Thrain than by himself.
“Didn’t you say you’d return the favor for me saving you?” That shut any rebuttal Thrain had prepared. Of course, Ororon had to bring it up at this moment.
“I did.” He replied stiffly as he began to realize he was fighting a losing battle. “But-”
“I’ll take care of myself. If things turn dangerous, I’m very good at running away. You don’t need to protect me.” The young man crossed his arm defensively, his face set in a stubborn frown.
“That’s not the problem. I’d protect you no matter what, however-”
“Please, Thrain.” He pleaded, his odd eyes glinting. “It’s my only chance to see the outside world. I promise I won’t be a burden!”
Thrain could hear his resistance slowly crumbling. He took a deep breath and sighed in defeat. Ororon once again beamed at him, and happily pulled him to walk past the gate to the expanse of the road forward. If he were a wanted man before, he could as well add the charge of kidnapping someone’s grandson or abetting one’s runaway act. Either of those would be enough to earn the ire of Citlali for a lifetime and he had no doubts that she was more than willing strangle him by her own hands if they were to meet again.
“Let’s go.” Ororon tugged at his sleeve, eyes shimmering with excitement, oblivious of the peril inside Thrain’s heart.
He took another look at the gate behind them, finally resigned to his situation and offered the young man a small smile back. This too, should be only a temporary thing.
Right?