Ranvir stepped out of the small chamber, brushing his hands off with a small cloth. “I could work,” he admitted, closing the door behind him.

“Yeah?” Kirs asked.

“Wonderful,” Es said, dancing from foot to foot, “now can we get a move on?”

Frija let out a high-pitched grunt as she pushed up from her seat on the ground. She’d been playing with the small stones that littered the ceremony site. Vasso had retreated to the shade of a tree off the road and pulled out his book. At Esmund’s words, they all started moving again.

Vasso moved closer to Ranvir and indicated they should fall back. “What was that about?”

Ranvir shrugged, wrapping his wings securely about him as they drew closer to the village. “Just testing out a theory.”

Vasso narrowed his eyes and glared intently at Ranvir. “What theory?”

“You’ll know when you get a little older,” Ranvir said, rustling his hair, which repulsed the teenager into the middle of the group.

Kirs fell back and gave him a curious look. “Why keep it secret?”

“How many teenagers do you know that can keep a secret?” he replied. She nodded in acknowledgment.

Shortly thereafter, Rime’s Shadow came into view. It looked little like the home Ranvir remembered. Some houses had been torn down to make room for a larger street that passed through the middle of the town.

A few people were milling outside one building, a sign suggesting it sold general wares hanging from its roof. Another store not too far off sold clothes and various daily wares, and a third, half-way finished store at the end of the road was made for horse and general animal care.

Ranvir paused in his steps, falling a little behind the group as he scanned the new environment. The roads were still dirt and soil, but had clearly been pressed down to make it more compact. Here and there, new construction, like the shops, had sprouted up.

There had been no shops the last time Ranvir visited. Sure, there’d been people selling items like his mother, but no physical locations dedicated solely to the sale of items. Nor had there been enough people to warrant it.

In the distance, a hill had been cleared to reveal the manor sitting at the top. The new Lord’s home had been finished and looked extravagant, with its stone construction and immense size. The house was dwarfed by both Dovar and Grevor’s homes, but compared to the rest of Rime’s Shadow? It was downright palatial.

A horse-drawn cart was trekking down from the lumberyard, the lumber freshly debarked and cut into pieces. In the distance, Ranvir could hear many voices yelling and singing. Men working in rhythm to finish their work faster. There, too, it sounded like the village had grown.

Es walked up next to Ranvir and placed a gently hand on his wing, “It’s changed quite a lot, hasn’t it?”

Ranvir nodded, looking around. New people were everywhere. His tether-sense ranged across the grounds, scanning as many people as he could manage. In his childhood, they’d had a single second-stage tethered, but he’d died of old age before Ranvir’d turned twelve. Now, he sensed half a dozen, excluding Esmund and the Lord.

Esmund clapped him on the wing once and took a step back, “We’re going to go see Mom and Dad, bye!”

“Bye!” Frija said happily, waving her hand.

Ranvir nodded to them and Vasso made a gesture so minuscule it could hardly be seen, let alone called a wave. Sharpening his hearing, he nodded towards one of the side paths. “It’s this way.”

The ringing sound of metal-on-metal soon became audible as they made their way through the village. A small house, barely over three rooms, and a small stone expansion came into view. Heat waves billowed out of the open door, alongside the ripples of sharp sound. A little further down, Ranvir saw the smith’s own smithy, though this one was dark at the moment.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Frija clapped her hands over her ears and winced with each resounding strike of the hammer, “Stop it, Dad!”

Ranvir smiled and hurried towards the door. A wave of warmth billowed over Ranvir as he took in the familiar area. Frey sat in the middle of the small forge working on a piece of jewelry, working it into a long thin line with the hammer. He knocked on the door loudly, in between swings. His mother gave him an acknowledging wave before bringing the hammer down, but she didn’t look up.

The forge was small, just enough room for two people comfortable with each other to work in. From her reinforced seat, Frey could reach almost all the tools on the back wall, and all she had to do was spin around to be seated at the workbench where she would do all the finer detailing. A simple hole at the top, let the smoke from the forge out.

“Ranvir? It’s you?” his mother’s voice broke halfway through. She’d gone pale and was stumbling out of her seat. She tipped as if expecting her missing leg to catch her. Ranvir closed the distance before she could try to stop her fall. “My baby,” she whispered, brushing hair out of his face. “You’re really back?”

Ranvir sensed his Perception shift focus as her face momentarily blurred. As her face returned to focus, he saw tears in her eyes and pulled her close. “It’s really me, Mom. I’m back.”

She wrapped her arms around him, squeezed tight. Frey wasn’t strong by the metrics Ranvir had grown used to measuring by, but there was a certainty and rigidity in his mother’s arms that he didn’t realize he’d been missing until that moment.

“Ugh,” Frija called out, stumbling back from the door, “it’s so hot in there.”

Frey jerked back from Ranvir’s chest. Her eyes had cleared and grown wide. Ranvir stepped to the side, leaning against the workbench to let his mother peer behind him. At some point, he’d let his wings relax into their default folded state on his back.

“It smells,” Frija complained, waving a hand before her eyes.

“Is that you, little Frija?” Frey asked. She regained herself enough to return to her hops. Ranvir felt a familiar twist in his stomach as his mother jumped through the workshop, one side searing hot, the other filled with sharp tools.

Before Frey could reach the door, Vasso peeked inside. She drew herself to her full height and looked the kid over. Vasso glanced at Ranvir for confirmation, before straightening, “Uh, I’m Vasso,” he offered his hand, “I’m Ranvir’s adopted son.”

Frey took a moment to parse it all. His odd appearance, his age, and likely she picked up that he wasn’t speaking Elensk. “Hello Vasso. It’s nice to meet you,” she said tentatively.

He smiled at her and nodded, drawing back.

Frija was cocking her head side to side, like Ranvir’d seen Menace do when he was confused, “Grandmamma?”

“You’ve grown so much since last I saw you!” Frey said, hopping closer. “You look like a little firestarter don’t you?”

Frija’s eyes shot wide, and she clamped both hairs over her hand, tamping it down furiously. Ranvir smiled, Vasso chuckled, and Frey bellowed a short laughter, “Not like that, sweetie. You look like you make lots of trouble.”

“Nuh uh,” Frija crossed her arms and pouted at her grandmother. “I do not!”

“Yes, you do,” Vasso said tentatively, glancing in Frey’s direction.

Frey noticed and touched his shoulder, laughing, “You’ll fit right in.”

Vasso blushed and looked away.

“Please, come inside,” Frey waved at the main house, “it’s not spacious, but there’s enough room for four. And it’ll let me rest my leg.”

“Your leg?” Frija asked. She slapped an open palm into the heavy leather covered skirt Frey was wearing. Ranvir gasped in mortification, Frija gasped in shock, Vasso drew back, growing silent, and Frey glared at her son.

“Did you not tell her?”

“I did! I swear!” Ranvir said, reflexively lifting his hands to protect himself. Frey paused, looking him over for a long time, then grinning.

“It’s alright, Firehearth,” she said, reaching down to pat Frija’s hair. “I’ll explain it properly.”

They followed her out of the forge and around to the main structure. “I told you, right?” Ranvir whispered to Vasso. His son nodded in confirmation. Ranvir nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. This was just childish antics by Frija.

Soon, they were all seated around the dinner table, the room feeling distinctly more cramped than Ranvir remembered. The table that had once comfortably seated the entire family now had him knocking elbows with Vasso, even though Frija was sitting on his lap.

“So…” Frey said, looking Ranvir over. He deliberately didn’t hide his wings or arm, and she took her time examining it all. “You need a haircut.”

“Uh.”

“And a shave,” she said, tapping tough fingers on the tabletop, “I thought Gunnor taught you how to take care of yourself. You look ridiculous with that scruff on your neck.”

“You do, Daddy!” Frija said, happy to pile on.

“Hang on,” Ranvir said, raising a hand. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Too busy to take a minute to shave?” Frey’s eyes shot death rays of disapproval straight into Ranvir’s shriveling soul. “Or to take care of your new…” she gestured vaguely to his wings, “stuff.”

Ranvir peered at his feathered appendages. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen half-dead birds with better looking feathers than you! Really, I figured a bit of time in the big city would make you more conscientious of your appearance, not less!”

“Wait,” he said, trying to get a word in.

“And don’t get me started on your clothes. Did you pick them off the street?”

“That’s not fair,” Ranvir complained. Frija was giggling so hard, she nearly fell out of his lap, and even Vasso couldn’t keep his grin from showing.