Valdis let him hold her, taking comfort in his presence and the fact that he still cared. The war he had been fighting didn't seem to have destroyed his soul the way war so often did. He still felt warm and light, worn, yes, but not without hope. When Wan finally pulled away, she almost stepped forward, afraid that he might disappear again, but his grip on her fur reassured her that he was going nowhere.

Eight years?

So much time had passed for him, no wonder he seemed tired.