Ciaran lets out a long breath, his shoulders dropping and releasing tension he didn’t even know he was holding. Shallow waves lap around his legs.
It’s evening, not quite sunset, and the lake shines under the dimming light. It’s cooler than his lake. The trees are different, the air crisper, and the path through the woods that brought them here is unfamiliar. The birds don’t sing to him here, tittering uncertainly when he passes.
He feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist, and he sighs, leaning back into the embrace. He nods at the question whispered against his ear, his hands coming up to clasp at Faolan’s arms.
It’s not home, not yet, but it will do.