Kiera was unmistakable, not only her accent, but appearance as well. There aren't too many blind dark elves who would show their face around here or associate with Brand's Rangers. It was almost as though they picked up right where they left off ten years earlier. He smiled a warm, genuine smile at her. They exchanged an embrace, the hug two siblings share when they are really happy to see one another.

[i]“So, you’ve come back as well,” Kiera said, “You’ve heard the stories, then?”[/i]

Loden had been living in denial about the death of Brand. He didn't want to face it. Not yet, it was too soon. He didn't want to become sullen in front of his siblings. They had all just reunited. This should be a joyous occasion. Loden said nothing, but certainly, his face spoke volumes.

Grey was the first to speak up, [i]"stories aplenty I've heard, in a thousand variations of truth. I'll admit, I know not what to believe and what to dismiss, which is largely why I have sought you all out."[/i]

Loden could not look at him as he spoke. He was not interested in what he had to say. He looked at Ashira. Looked at her face, picturing what she looked like when she was  five or ten years old. He thought they were close, but now. Now, when they had to deal with the loss of their mentor, they benefactor, the only true parent he'd ever known. He looked into Grey's face. He remembered being in the forest with him on hunting trips. Grey was still learning the ropes and Loden was supposed to be a role model. How could he be a role model now? He was stricken with such grief it was paralytic. He looked at Keira and recalled the day he touched the sick girl. He was 16. That day changed his life. It frightened him, but everything was different now. He was able to help people, but he couldn't bring Brand back to life. He blamed himself for that.

Then Ashira spoke the words, visibly upset as Loden was, [i]"Brand is gone. Executed."[/i] Loden couldn't say it. He couldn't admit to it. He could feel a hardness welling up in his throat. A terrible emotion was overwhelming his senses. He knew he needed to be alone. He looked about the room, seeking a quiet place. Some place to weep in peace.

"Please excuse me. I need to take care of something," Loden spoke softly to his siblings and headed for Joren Muttle's office in the back. He didn't look back. A tear trickled down  his cheek. He allowed it to fall once he was away from his friends and siblings. He would not, could not cry in front of them. Now, his eyes were dripping, he attempted to wipe them, making his eyes red. He opened the door and faced, more people he did not want to see, but what was he to do? He could not return to the bar area. Besides, he hadn't seen Muttle or the other two in many years. 

At first, he didn't recognize them, but an image of an infant came to mind. He recalled the baby who was Masef. His dark complexion, the earring. He was in the bar area earlier, "Masef?" This was the 12 year old boy who was so curious about the world. Loden spoke softly. He looked up at the larger man, much taller than he, but most men were larger than Loden Grimm. He was only five foot nine inches tall. The arrogance, the confidence. This man was a friend. They played together a lot and hunted in the woods frequently. This was, "Verrick!" He reached for the man's hand, and turned his former grim expression to one of elation. He shook both men's hands and turned his spirits around in the matter of seconds. He was home again. "It is so great to see you boys again! Wow, what a night this had turned into!"

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