Ylvir squirmed in the cart—empty now since his father had sold it all. After his father told him to come down and follow him, and they rushed away from the village, neither of them had said a word.

He stared up at the moon that slowly grew brighter in the fading daylight, its surface only partially revealed. In truth, Ylvir was frightened. He had seen his father angry before, but never quite like this. And since he refused to speak, Ylvir's anxiety only grew with each passing moment that went in silence.

It continued to be so until they reached the familiar cottage they both knew as home. His father jumped down from his seat, and Ylvir made to get out as well, but Reul held a finger out to him.

"Don't," he spoke firmly. "You stay."

Ylvir's face contorted in confusion as his father went inside the cottage alone. He remained in the cart as his hearing picked up on the sounds of his father's heavy footfalls and his mother's stirrings.

"Reul? What's wrong dear?" she asked in clear concern.

"Ylvir, that's wot," his father spat angrily.

"What? What happened? Where is he?" she asked in mounting panic. Ylvir didn't need to be there to see the fear on her face.

"He's outside, where he'll be staying," Reul harrumphed.

His mother paused. "Why? Will you please explain to me what in the world is going on, because frankly, I'm at a complete loss," she said, and Ylvir just knew she was crossing her arms with irritation.

"I'm not sure myself," Reul said sarcastically. "Tell me, what was Ylvir doing at that festival? How did he get that coat? And my old boots? Explain that, Aloris."

Ylvir heard his mother's sharp intake of breath. "Tell me what happened." It was no longer a question.

It was Reul's turn to pause. "He lost control, Aloris. He was an animal. And now he's outside with rest of 'em, where he'll stay."

Ylvir's heart twisted inside his chest. He felt guilt wash over him as he reflected on his actions. His father was right. He had acted like an animal. But he was justified. Those people were being just as beastly as he was. He had done right. He had delivered that dragon and brought her the freedom that should never have been taken in the first place.

"Tell me the whole story," Aloris spoke.

"I dun know the 'ole story," Reul growled. "It don't matter. He was in the wrong. You didn't see 'im, Ris. He was... 'e was savage and wild. Like a rabid beast. I could 'ardly recognize 'im."

Another twist to Ylvir's breaking heart. His father... actually sounded scared. Of him. And his father wasn't scared of anything.

"I'm going to talk to our son," Aloris said.

Ylvir heard some commotion.

"Let go Reul!"

"Don't Ris. He needs to learn."

"What if he doesn't need to learn? I want to hear his side."

Ylvir perked up as the cottage door opened and he saw his mother striding towards him, blue eyes blazing and golden hair streaming behind. When she stood in front of him, her face softened.

"Ylvir," she spoke softly. "What happened?"

Ylvir's guilt came back. He was supposed to be helping his mother and father tonight. He wasn't supposed to be giving them this heartache.

"Dad's right, mum," he said just as softly. "I lost control."

His mother frowned, and his heart tore a little more. She nodded, then asked, "Why, dear?"

Ylvir's blood-red eyes welled with tears and he hung his head, ears drooping. His mother watched her boy cry with sorrow in her own heart as he sniffed and tilted his head back, then looked to her.

"There... there was this dragon," he said quietly, almost a whisper. "She was in such a pitiful state, all caged up and completely uncared for. And then the people wanted her to breathe fire, so this man started whipping her, and I just... I couldn't... I lost control. I didn't mean to..."

He trailed off, then wiped the tears from his wet fur and clenched his jaw. "No, I did. I wanted those people to stop, I wanted to hurt that man, and I wanted to set that dragon free like she was supposed to be. And I did. I scared the people away. I wounded that man. And I gladly watched that dragon fly away. And you know what, I would do it all again."

He looked to his mother to see what she would say to him—if she would also tell him he was wrong. She merely gave him a small smile.

"Ylvir, my boy. You have such a big heart," she cooed, then opened her arms to him. "Come here."

Ylvir hesitated only a moment before obliging her. He climbed all the way out of the cart, standing up and towering over his mother. She wrapped her arms around his frame as best she could, her hands barely touching, and Ylvir responded in kind.

She hummed into his feathery and furry chest. "You're still so soft, dear. Like laying on a cloud."

Ylvir said nothing. He was still thinking. As he held his mother and she held him back, he couldn't help but remember his father's words and the tone with which he spoke them. His mother had not been there to witness his ferocity, nor did she know how easy it had been for him to slip. He did not want her to see that. He did not want for her to fear him.

He had a sudden epiphany. He could leave. He could leave the farm and spare his parents the risk of seeing him as the monster everyone else saw in him. He could see the world—experience the things he saw in his books for himself. His mind ran through it over and over, boisterously entertaining the idea, giving it a good time.

"Ylvir?"

He pulled from his thoughts as his mother did from him, her brows knitting together.

"Mum..."

"What is it dear?"

"I think... I think I should go," he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Oh. Well, alright then. Take all the time you need, sweetheart," she said with an understanding smile.

"No, Mum. I... I should go, go. Leave the farm. Indefinitely," he explained and both the smile and the understanding slipped from her face.

"What?"

Ylvir was nearly crushed as he saw her own heart crack.

"But... why? Ylvir, you did nothing wrong. Your father might be mad now, but he'll come around. We still love you," she said frantically.

"Mum," his voice cracked and he swallowed hard. "You're wrong. I lost control, and that was wrong. Dad might come around, but... I can't stay here forever, you know."

She said nothing. Ylvir watched her sky blue eyes show signs of rain as they searched his. And then she sobbed. Ylvir almost started crying again himself at the sight and went to comfort her until he saw it wasn't only sobs, but also... laughter?

She took his face into her hands and gave him a watery smile and stroking his dark, wet fur with her thumbs. "Oh, Ylvir. My sweet boy. Who told you you could grow up?"

It was then that Ylvir noticed the signs of his mother's age—the wrinkles that betrayed her years of smiling, the nearly invisible veins of silver in her golden hair.

He sniffed, holding back his own tears. "That's just the way it goes, Mum. Can't help it."

"Ooh," she groaned, but still smiled. "I wish you could just be little again and stay that way forever."

Ylvir rasped a laugh at that.

"Are you sure you want to go?" his mother asked, her eyes pleading.

He nearly hesitated, but nodded instead. "Yes. I think... I think it would be for the best."

She nodded, too. "Perhaps you're right. As much as I want you to stay, I've known for some time that one day you would be leaving. I just never imagined it would be so soon," she sob-laughed again.

Aloris stepped back and wiped her tears away before giving her son another brave smile. "Wait here. I'll go get you some things real quick," she said turning away before stopping short.

Ylvir followed her startled gaze before experiencing the same shock she did. Stepping out of the cottage was his father, his head bowed, his shoulders low, his arms holding something large.

When Reul stood before them both, he cleared his throat uncomfortably, not lifting his gaze from the dusty ground.

"Couldn't 'elp but overhear you was plannin' on leavin'. Went ahead and put this together. Just some necessities, and the like," he said, then lifted the pack he had been holding out to his son.

Ylvir merely stared before regaining some composure and taking the pack from his father carefully. "Thank you."

His father shook his head, still not meeting his eyes. "It's nuffin'."

Ylvir's spirits sank at his father's refusal to look at him. "Dad—"

Reul interrupted whatever his son was about to say by wrapping his arms around him, discovering his wife had been telling the truth when she said their son was as soft as a newborn lamb.

"I'm sorry," he spoke as Ylvir tried to emerge from his shock, completely still.

Ylvir finally hugged his father back. "Nothing to be sorry for."

Reul pulled away and gave a brief nod, clearing his throat again and lifting his gaze to meet his son's.

"Good luck. Do good out there."

It wasn't much, but Ylvir recognized it better for the words that went unsaid. In response, he straightened his back, inching taller than the man, and gave him a returning nod, in which he said his own unspoken words.

"Ylvir."

He turned to face his mother, who held a fair hand out to him. He caught a flash of red and looked to see something very familiar in her palm.

His eyes flicked to his mother's. "But—"

She took his hand and put the necklace in it. "Keep it. Think of it as a lucky charm, or just something to remember us by in case you can't visit."

He searched her face and found it to be earnest. His rough fingers closed around hers and she smiled, then removed it, leaving the necklace behind.

"I love you, Ylvir," she said, then walked to her husband's side, taking his hand. "We both do. So much. Never forget that."

One last tear left his eye as he blinked it away and gave them a toothy grin. "I love you, too. I suppose this is goodbye, then."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Or maybe... until next time."

Aloris laughed. "Yes. I think I like that much better."

"Until next time. Mum, Dad."

"Until next time, Ylvir," she smiled sadly, and even Reul found his lips twitching in a similar manner.

And with that, Ylvir turned to leave the only home he had ever known, and the only people who had ever loved him. He walked away and towards the forest he had always loved and admired, and as he was about to step through the edge, Dandy came up from behind, squawking and flapping her wings wildly, sending feathers flying.

Ylvir turned to look at her, giving her a questioning look. "Are you sure you want to do that? It's probably not safe."

She scratched at the ground and clucked.

Ylvir smiled, then shrugged. "Alright. Your call, Dandy."

Dandy simply squawked and leaped and clawed her way up to his shoulder.

He bellowed laughter. "That's the spirit! Adventure it is!"

Ylvir took his first steps into the forest and into the next chapter of his life with a heavy heart but hopeful spirits, unsure of the things yet to come.