Thirty-eight – 04

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

He forgot to breathe for a moment. He didn’t like to admit it, but he missed riding with the Hunt—he missed the strange camaraderie, missed the comfort of not having to think, just needing to act. He had spent so many years as one of them, he had stopped thinking of them as anything other than—

They were his family.

Except I have another family, one that’s only just gotten me back.

Seamus closed his eyes. It would be all too easy to fall back into old patterns—he already had, by coming here, by seeking out Anselm, by listening to the old instincts instead of the even older ones, the ones from the time before the Wild Hunt, the ones that screamed for him to go to Leinth, to go to Phelan, to go to his sister.

I should be ashamed.

Seamus shook his head slowly. “My place isn’t with you anymore, old friend. I need to be here, with them—with my family.”

Anselm smiled. It wasn’t quite what Seamus expected—truly, he’d expected the old soldier to argue, to bargain, to lecture. Instead, he said simply, “They have always been and always will be your family.” He reached over and squeezed Seamus’s arm. “And we will always be your brothers and sisters. I’ll send scouts and pickets. We should have enough time for that.”

Seamus exhaled, nodding. “Thank you, Anselm.”

“Anything for a brother.” Anselm squeezed his arm again and turned away. Seamus watched him walk away, standing frozen near his old friend’s tent, near his friend’s cookfire.

A brother.

Seamus closed his eyes for a moment. He took a pair of deep breaths, heart still feeling like lead in his chest.

They are all family. All of them.

He took another deep breath as he opened his eyes. The Hunt’s camp was rousing itself, the men and women of the Wild Hunt girding for the combat that Seamus, in his heart of hearts, knew was imminent.

He turned and walked back toward the room he shared with Leinth. He would need his gear for what came next.

After all, he had a family to protect.

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