Lumberling strolled through the village, not toward the usual clang of the training grounds this time, but farther, toward the cliffs where the wolves made their den.
He hadn't come this way in a while.
Sure enough, he found her there, sitting cross-legged on a flat stone, surrounded by the resting pack. One of the pups pawed at her cloak while she absentmindedly scratched its ear.
Jen.
She'd grown so much.
Sixteen now. It had been over five years since he'd first met the girl clinging to her grandfather's robes. Her black hair flowed down to her waist, and her brown eyes had sharpened with age, bright and perceptive. She was tall for her age, slim but strong, her features refined into a beauty that would've turned heads even in his old world.
"Hey," he called out, a smile tugging at his lips.
Jen looked up, startled, then lit up and ran straight to him, throwing her arms around his waist.
