First Ralir was making his way through sticky mud in the Homewood, and then his hoof fell onto the ground again and he jolted awake. He shook out his mane - suddenly dry and warm - and blinked into the open air, disoriented from the sudden brightness. Wait - he could see, first, yellow, a pale wash of color that was fading quickly, and a long stretch of white roots, taller than even some of the Homewood's bushes. He whirled around, heart pounding, only for his eyes to settle on his tired father.
Father was watching him: there was something resigned about those half-lidded eyes, but Ralir could see that sad smile beginning to form again. Congratulations, Father said, raising his nose in the air in an aborted gesture of affection. Ralir stepped closer himself, feeling relief wash over him. It hadn't been real. When he was within range, he bent down and leaned his neck against Father's for far longer than he'd admit to anyone else. He had certainly thought...well. "How do I know?" he asked.
Don't test it just yet, son; you'll need your strength for the way back, Father said in lieu of answer, and Ralir knew he was worried. Ralir looked over him again. Father was an old noul, and Ralir noticed every day the way his gait slowed, or the way he needed to brace himself against a tree, sometimes, to make sure he had a stable grasp of standing. Years ago, Father had tried to do his part in healing Vykeli, too. But he'd started cutting back when Ralir was born, and Ralir could never forget that, because it'd separated him from his mate in the end. "We can rest for now," said Ralir, subdued. "Father, I - "
He didn't know what to say. He could never remember venturing so far from the Homewood, and Father had always told him that he shouldn't, without his gift. Well, Ralir had his gift now. He wasn't oblivious, though. He knew Father didn't want him venturing forth anyway; he knew that the Vykeli that the Others had left behind was dangerous. He knew how much it hurt, to have nothing left of someone but an unreliable memory. "I'll always be careful," he said. "I've learned from you."
The sigh rolled through Ralir's father from his chest outward, ending with a jerky flicker of his tail that splashed the dry dirt onto Ralir's flank. You're no longer a child nipping at your father's fetlocks for fear of separation, said Father. He turned, looking up at the tall branches of the Grandfather Tree. There was a long pause before he spoke again, and the words were almost too quiet to hear. But Ralir knew that old, creaky voice, and had spent years flicking his ears forth for fear of missing a detail: And every noulicorn receives a blessing from Vykeli's grandfather tree, and then a debt they will spend the rest of their life repaying.
One of Ralir's back feet scrabbled back, and he looked quickly from Father to the Grandfather Tree. Father had a lot of fear, yes, about what might happen to a noul out of the Homewood. But he'd always taught Ralir it was his duty, to look after other creatures who might never receive a gift, and he'd always spoken of nouls with respect. The suggestion that he might not want this obligation seemed absurd. "Someday, though," Ralir said. "Someday no one will need to leave the Homewood - because the Homewood will be all of Vykeli. Father..."
"I know," Father sighed. His voice was slow and ponderous. "You are a strong and dutiful noul, Ralir. You don't need to humor an old buck so much." He started patting at the ground with his forelegs, clearly a sign that he was ready to leave. "You'll practice with your new gift before you venture too far. And - you won't embark on ventures you're not prepared for." He nosed at the ground, and Ralir approached as if by habit, pushing his shoulder up against his father to help him onto his hooves. "You will do as any noul would, and I think better than most, but your father cannot help his sentimentality and his selfishness."
Ralir gathered all the things he'd prepared, double checking the coverage of the cloths he'd brought to keep the sun at bay. "I'll do you both proud, Father," he answered, quiet and a little sad for the days that had passed already, to which they'd never be able to return. He had always wanted to set out himself, both for his own sake and for the sake of closure. Besides, Father was right: there was nothing else for a noul to be doing, if they wanted to stay in the Homewood.
Anyway, it wasn't like Ralir would leave and never return. It'd work out.
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