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Frank steps out of the Lodge in the muggy summer night in the light of the full moon. A mug of coffee steams in his hand. Black. The dirt is cool on his bare feet.
He breathes easily, enjoying the way the humid warmth of growing things seeps into his pores; the way the smell of wood smoke infiltrates his lungs.
He sips his coffee.
The old troll listens to the sounds of the night around him; insects; frogs, oh my yes, hark at them peeping; the distant hoot of an owl; a snapping twig - clumsy deer, perhaps?
He looks up at the moon reverently. She's out there; by now, the camp should be quiet and hopefully she's enjoying a last cup, like he is, before going to sleep. Thankfully she uses a mattress pad these days; sleeping flat on the ground is a young person's game. Dagmar, now... -she- can sleep in a sleeping bag and still get to her feet in the morning......
Oatmeal for breakfast, probably, then a full day of teaching, mentoring, connecting others to the outdoors and the land she loves, the place and people she serves.
As does he.
Frank marvels for a moment in the cool moonlight, the turn his life has taken. Oathbroken Outcast, sundered by his very nature from the family that inspired it, turning his focus to an unwinable war of attrition, willing to spend his life in a struggle that could never be won, for people who would either never see him for who is really is, or for Fae that would never trust or accept him...
... and then her. And this place. And eventually, a form of peace. Then his daughter. And then another. And through it all.... her.
Tell her I love her. He prays, looking up into the stars. Tell her The Oceanheart will grow dry and cracked before my love for her does. Even through the years of separation... she was the song I played, the words I whispered to myself when I had a voice. She kept me strong. Let her know that, as she goes to sleep tonight. Let her feel my heart beat with hers as she drifts to Dream. Let the music of our heartbeats tell her; I love her.
He bows his head over the mug, then lifts it, and drinks. After another minute or two, he turns and steps inside, carefully brushing the dirt off his toes on the mat.
A bit later, a light upstairs winks out, and the Lodge is dark.
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