The off-white coat of his companion came into view after what felt like an agonizingly long time. Fortunately for him, the frosty grip of her encapture seemingly expelled her, a spray of flurries and ice smattering his face as she ungracefully tossed herself out from under the weight of the snow.

Once freed, she, like him, paused to take in the scene before them. In the quiet of the moment, Rhydian began to replay his most recent memories back in his head. It felt like yesterday that he had freed himself from years-long imprisonment at the rogue camp, walked for… however long back home, and…

Rhydian’s breath hitched. He remembered the look on his wife’s face-- resentment, distrust, hurt. Her words, unlike the visual memories, were muffled in his memories. She had aged. Developed gray fur near her ears, and folds near her brows where they had always furrowed. And Morriva and Aedric…

His vision began to blur. The cold clinging to his face and vulnerable flesh seemingly disappeared. His children.

“Rhydian, what... the hell happened? I can't remember anything... “

But her words fell on deaf ears.