[ One home was not so different from another, at the end of it. Home was a place that always tugged at the heart, no matter what had happened there. A smattering of bright memories among the betrayal and the failures. The call of home would always sting, for everyone. It did for him, anyway. He couldn’t think of home of without thinking of everything he’d lost, and everything that could’ve been. Home was innocence and safety and warmth, and there was no returning.

To think that he bears some reflection of her own home gives him a flick of pride, though he can’t imagine why. A shimmer of light in the darkness, perhaps. His smile softens as he watches her, before his gaze shifts to the trees. ] I hope they are not too much alike. [ Not even his faraway home had been free from bloodshed, after all, and he would wish that on no one.

He can’t help but laugh as she returns his words, regardless of how true the threat may or may not have been. As long as he stood breathing, at least, he could find humor in it. Only so much humor to be glimpsed in the otherwise wrathful grip of life, he well knew, and he lowers his gaze once more at the answer he is given. Gone; how much is gone for them all?

And still something saved – a son and a daughter, and he suffers a brief but indescribably sharp stab of pain before he can summon another polite smile. ] A gift to be grateful for. I hope they stay there. [ He remembers leaving his own home before he was ready, as he’s sure many children do. What he wouldn’t have given to stay, and protect them all. He makes an addition, so as not to give insult. ] Though you could make a home anywhere, by the looks of it. Neither elk nor wolves would trouble you.