Tobby

WHEW! Camp is almost done! (And I’m sorry that my post is a day late. The internet here decided to go out on me when I was posting) We’re done with resident camp and now for a half week of troop camping and a weekend event. I can’t wait to go home and sleep in my own bed, use my new desk, type away… I want some me time. Martin wants some too and he’s still not done with his day. More of Nacre is about to learn their crown prince is back.
*************
Lord Nickolas Ta’lurd watched as the princess excused herself from the dinning room, muttering something about needing to check her makeup. She wasn’t fooling anyone. She was upset and had gone to sulk for a bit. He smirked in satisfaction at flustering Princess Sara. Perhaps it wasn’t the best way to destroy a girl’s illusions to woo her to accept his marriage proposal, but the sooner she accepted her brother’s doom, the sooner she could get on with her life.

“She seemed very adamant about her brother,” Lady Rose Cout mused, delicately forking an asparagus and raising it to her mouth. “One would think she had already met him.” She bit the vegetable and chewed it thoughtfully. “However, our princess has a large mouth. She would have told us her brother’s name if she had met him.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Lady Serene Loftice said harshly. “You don’t know for certain if the prince is dead.”

“But there’s no proof that he’s alive,” Nick scoffed. He looked around the table. Surrounding him were some of the most influential future leaders in Nacre. Friends, enemies, and all noble. Politics were played even as they sat down for a friendly lunch.

“Think of it,” he said, addressing all of them. “It has been two years since the queen announced that the crown prince was alive. What do we have to show for those two years of research? More reasons why they can’t find him.”

“Like his face being changed,” his friend, Lord Phelp Cates voiced. “Or his powers blocked. An easy excuse to explain why they put any commoner on the throne.” He snorted. “Any commoner could be our next king!”

“Not if I have anything to do about it,” Nick promised. “I’ve been telling people for years. The prince has been dead since he was two. This fool hardly search has been nothing more than propaganda. But now their lie is starting to backfire on them.”

“Is that what you truly believe?” Serene asked, glaring. “Most of the court believes the queen. They think the prince is still alive. Sara obviously believes it.”

“Her Highness has lived as an only child,” Nick said, his voice never taking on a hint of annoyance. But it did have the effect he was hoping for when the young noblewoman flinched. “She’s clinging onto a dream of having a sibling. In time enough she’ll come to her senses and realize that her brother is, in fact, dead.”

“Sir,” a butler said respectfully, standing in the doorway. “You have a visitor.”

“Who would be visiting me?” Nick asked, sighing dramatically. “All the important people are here.” Some of the nobles chuckled. It wasn’t too far off from the truth.

“He’s actually here to collect Her Highness,” the butler reported. “Should I send him in?”

Nick frowned. Why was the queen collecting her daughter early? “Very well,” he dismissed. “Send him in.”

Moments later, a man entered, earning him stares from everyone, servant and noble alike. He was dressed in a dark blue uniform of the Ghosts and held himself as such, with a straight posture and hands clasped behind his back. Nick raised an eyebrow. Even though the uniform lacked medals, had only captain strips, and his face was of the common stalk, he could tell the Ghost was important. Something about his bearing made him seem that way.

The Ghost captain scanned the room quickly with hazel eyes. “I was told Princess Sara was here,” he said, his voice deep. Several noblewomen smiled at the sound of his voice, obviously enjoying the sound of his voice.

“She’s gone to fix her makeup,” Nick said dully. “She should be back shortly.”

The Ghost captain eyed him suspiciously, obviously not believing him. Nick ignored the man. Why should he concern himself with some commoner’s opinion of him? However, he was interested to know why the queen sent a Ghost to collect her daughter. What was the queen’s motive?

“Excuse me,” Rose said, sitting taller as she looked the captain over again. “But are you, by any chance, Ghost Captain Eighty-One?”

The Ghost blinked. “Yes.”

The dining room was filled with excited whisperings, but Nick sat back in his chair with a frown. Captain Eighty-One? The queen was defiantly up to something by sending such a war hero to collect her daughter.

Serene suddenly stood and curtsied to the captain. “Welcome to Nacre, Captain,” she said. Absently she smoothed the front of her dress. “What brings you to our capital? Are you not needed on the field?”

The captain rolled his eyes. “I’m needed here,” he said, glancing up at the ceiling. “My family was a bit insistent on it.”

“You’re family?” Rose asked, also standing and briefly glaring at Serene. “You abandoned the war for your family? How…” She looked him up and down, a hungry look in her eyes. “Honorable of you.”

“Oh, sure,” a new voice chimed. “Make him sick.”

Princess Sara leaned against another doorframe, glaring at the noblewoman. Everyone stood and bowed to her. Nick made his bow deeper than the others, to show his respect to her station. Why hadn’t I noticed her come in? Since her return from manner school, the princess had an interesting habit of showing up when least expected. Sara motioned for everyone to sit back down then focused her gaze on the Ghost captain.

“I’m needed here?” she mocked, crossing the room to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said,” he sneered at her as she joined him. “I’m needed here.” He eyed her, taking in her full gown and carefully crafted hair. The tomboy of her youth was gone, replaced by a young woman who knew her duty. The captain reached out and tugged on one of the blonde curls around her face. Nick froze a moment of fear. What if the queen brought the captain for a possible future husband for her daughter? Everyone would love to have the famous Captain Eighty-One as king.

“When did you grow up?” he asked, tugging harder than playfully necessary. “Last I remembered, you were a spoiled brat.”

The room went silent, even the servants looked on with surprise. Nick stared at the two, shocked at the insult. The princess rolled her eyes.

“It’s been at least a year since you last saw me,” she said, smacking his hand away. “Even I had to grow up sometime.” She sighed deeply. “Now I know why you told me to enjoy the ignorance of my youth.”

The captain snorted. “I warned you. Now, let’s go.” He turned to leave.

“Martin,” Sara said, gesturing back to the room. “I’ve got to tell them goodbye.” The Ghost rolled his eyes but stopped and waited with his arms folded. Why was he wearing only one glove?

Glaring at him, the princess returned to her seat and hugged Serene tight. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow,” she promised, suddenly grinning. “We’ll have all day to talk.”

Serene frowned. “About what?”

Sara frowned then turned to glare at the captain again. “Martin.” The Ghost shrugged. It was the most mocking and annoying shrug Nick had ever seen.

“They didn’t give me a chance and I didn’t feel like it.”

“You’re horrible,” Sara said, trying hard not to laugh.

“What?” Serene asked, switching her gaze between the princess and captain.

“He’s my brother,” Sara laughed. “He’s finally home!”

Every head snapped toward the captain. Nick opened his mouth to protest that it was preposterous to call a commoner the prince, even if he was a famous Ghost captain. Then he noticed the single glove the captain wore. The Connection. He didn’t know why he knew the glove was the magical focus or that it did belong to the Ghost. He just did.

“Yes,” Martin said, rolling his eyes. “I’m home. Now,” he strolled across to his sister, spun her around and poked the small of her back towards the door. “Let’s go.”

“Ah,” Sara giggled, glancing around the shocked expressions of those in the room. “Come on, Martin. Don’t you want to answer all their questions? I’m sure they have a lot to ask!”

“I’ve been on the road for the last two weeks,” he said, taking her shoulders and pushing her. “What I want is a decent hot meal and a good night sleep in a real bed. Let’s go.”

“Alright,” Sara sighed dramatically, taking her riding cloak from a stunned servant. Suddenly she frowned, adjusting the cloak around her shoulders. “Does Mom know you’re here?”

“She sent me here,” Martin answered, leaning forward and tapping her forehead. “Someone had to tell you I came home and she needed an excuse for me to be out of the palace for a couple hours.”

“Gak!” the princess yelped and swatted his hand away. “Why are you teasing me?!”

Martin laughed. “Because I’ve never had a sibling to tease before. I think I’m going to enjoy that aspect of being a brother.”

“The teasing goes both ways, brother,” Sara threw back. “Just you wait. I’ll get you.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to break any of my ribs yet.”

Sara paused. “I haven’t hugged you,” she realized. She suddenly grabbed the captain in a hug, squeezing tight.

“Gak!” he uttered, trying to pry himself free. “Sara!”

“There!” she laughed, releasing him. “I told you I’d get you!”

“That wasn’t getting,” he grumbled. “That was trying to break my ribs. Can we go now?”

“Very well,” she said, grinning. “Time to go.”

Nick and the others watched as the two left the room talking about some idle topic, too shocked to even speak. The prince? He was alive? Any argument Nick had before about the heir having been dead was dispelled by his causal appearance.

“Your Highness,” Rose whispered, breaking the stunned silence. She shot to her feet and rushed after the Santers. “Your Highness!” The nobles were quick to abandon their places and follow after, Nick close on Rose’s heels. He barely noticed the servants leave their duty to also come. It wasn’t their place to follow the prince… But the prince was there! After years of thinking he was dead, he finally was back.

The Santers were still talking with each other when they finally caught up with them. They stood out in the courtyard, waiting for the princess’s carriage to show up. The prince stood next to an elven horse, patting the animal’s neck. The palace guards stood nearby, they too eyeing their new prince.

“Your Highness!” Rose called, rushing down the steps to the courtyard.

“I think she’s talking to you,” Sara teased. Martin glared a bit at his sister before turning around and bowing slightly to the noblewoman.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Well,” Rose said, blushing with a grin. “I’m… It’s an honor to meet you. Truly an honor! I was wondering, perhaps, that you might be able to attend my ball tomorrow. Your sister has already been invited, but…. I just needed to extend an invitation to you. In person. And on short notice. Of course, though, that it’s short notice. You just came and all… But the ball? What do you think?”

Martin blinked at the stream of words that rushed out of the noblewoman’s mouth. “A ball tomorrow?” he asked. “I don’t know yet. I’ve just been in Nacre for a couple hours now. The queen has a lot of plans for me right now… But I’ll try to make it.”

“I’ll take that,” Rose said excitedly. “Then tomorrow night, if you can.” She curtsied low, looking bashfully up at him with interested eyes. “Your Highness.”

“You are going to make him sick,” Sara said, staring at the noblewoman with something close to disgusted worry. The carriage rode up and the footman jumped off to open the door for the princess.

“Sara,” the prince rebuked. “Be nice.”

“Isn’t she making you sick?”

“Sara!”

“Fine,” the princess muttered. “My carriage is here anyway.” She paused before the footman helped her up. “Are you going to ride with me?”

“I have Rowan,” the prince said, pointing to the elven horse. “I’ll ride him.”

“Have it your way,” Sara said, shrugging. She finally entered her carriage, the footman closing the door.

Shaking his head, Martin mounted his elven horse, taking the reigns in one hand. He nodded to the guards and they took the signal. They rode off, Martin beside the carriage and the guards around the Santers. Nick and the others were left standing on the steps, watching them go in stunned silence.
**************
“Did you see his face!” Sara laughed, leaning through the window to talk to him. “It was brilliant! It was about time someone took that snot down a notch!” She continued to laugh, wiping tears from her eyes.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Sara,” he said. “It’s not kind to make fun of other’s plights.”

“Plight?” she snorted. “You’ve read my letters. You know how big a jerk Lord Nick is. Tell me you didn’t enjoy seeing his dreams dashed with your appearance?”

Martin thought about it. It was true that he had developed a disliking for the lord through Sara’s letters. The princess explained everything that Nick had been trying to do, everything from convincing the court that the prince was actually dead to proposing marriage to the princess. The marriage proposal even ticked the queen off.

“You got me,” he admitted, allowing a small smile. “He did have a funny face when you told them that I’m your brother.” What he didn’t like was that he was suddenly the center of attention again. One thing he would greatly miss from his old life was being ignored.

Sara sighed happily, grinning as she remembered the faces of the nobles. “I can’t believe you’re home,” she said, smiling at him. “Honestly, we didn’t expect you home until after the war. Why did you come now? And without telling us you were coming?”

Martin managed to suppress a flinch. The queen asked him the same question privately before he left to collect his sister. “Later,” he answered, the same one he gave his mother. “When the excitement has died down.”

“That’s fine,” she said, resting her arms on the window seal and her chin on her arms. “I understand.” She eyed him, taking every detail in. “You look different.”

“I’m in Ghost uniform,” Martin pointed out. The last time Sara saw him, he was dressed in the Standards for spies, a simple shirt and trousers.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, seriously considering him. “Remember the last time? When you caught me at Grelend’s estate? I told you that you had a gravity about you. That you’ve seen things you shouldn’t. I understand now that it was the weight of keeping your identity a secret. But that gravity is gone now. It’s been replaced… I just don’t know what it’s been replaced by.”

“Hum,” Martin hummed. She was probably right. He was no longer hiding his identity.

“You don’t look princely yet though,” she added.

He snorted. “Of course not. I’ve been officially the prince for what? A few hours? Maybe? Give me time to get used to this.”

She grinned. “Mom and I will help with that.”

Martin groaned softly, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t suggested this plan.
************
The entire palace was in motion. While that was usually the case, it was more intense, more excited, than normal. Abigail couldn’t blame anyone. She too had caught it. The prince had returned. Everyone was pitching in to throw a surprise party for when the prince returned with his sister. It was going to be the fastest on the spur of the moment party they would have every put together. It was so fast, the cooks quickly went to all the surrounding bakeries and restaurants to get more food that was already cooked.

Abigail was supervising the decorating in the main ballroom when her assistant approached. It was a rare time indeed if Shay didn’t have a stack of papers in his arms.

“The maids have just reported that a royal apartment has been cleaned out,” Shay said, bowing. “And that the cooks are ready to serve at any moment.”

“Good,” Abigail said, grinning. “Martin should be back shortly with Sara. Everything is pulling together quite well.”

“Indeed,” Shay agreed. He paused, glancing around the ballroom. The grand ballroom was huge, the largest in the city. Pillars surrounded the outer edge of the room, leafy deigns scrolling up its height. The painted ceiling depicted crystal starry night, the golden chandeliers casting a brilliant glow to the entire room. Windows made up of one entire wall, glass double doors ready to be opened to the gardens beyond. It was the perfect place for a party to welcome the prince.

“I must admit,” Shay said, nodding approvingly as servants started placing tables around the edge of the ballroom, “I am surprised about your son.”

“Surprised?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

Shay nodded. “He’s not what I expected. Forgiveness… but he doesn’t look like much. A commoner if I ever gave him a passing glance.”

“That’s what his kidnappers had in mind,” she pointed out. “They couldn’t walk around with a crown prince without someone recognizing him. They changed his features.”

Shay shook his head. “He’s still… There is something different about him.”

You have no idea how different he is, Abigail thought, her excitement damped when she remembered where her son had come from. It was almost like a bad joke, a street urchin was actually a prince.

“He’s coming!” a servant shouted, running through the halls. “They’re in the courtyard now!”

“Shay,” Abigail said, “go to the courtyard and direct them here. We’ll surprise him here.”

Shay bowed. “As you wish.” He left to go collect the prince.

“Everyone!” Abigail said loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “Quiet down! When my son walks through that door, we’ll all yell ‘Welcome home.’ Then we’ll start this party!”

Cheers of excitement irrupted as the servants rushed to finish the last bits of cleaning. Then the shouts were hushed into silence, a few giggles here and there as they prepared themselves for the prince’s arrival.

Abigail took a deep breath, turning to face the door. Her son was home. He was finally home.

“Why are we going to the ballroom?” Sara asked.

“That’s where the queen wanted you to go,” Shay answered respectfully. The double doors opened.

“Now!” Abigail signaled, catching a glimpse of the prince.

“Welcome home, Martin Santer!”

Martin stood there, frozen at their shout. For the briefest of moments, he looked terrified, taking a step back as if he were about to run off. Abigail felt a pang of regret. Her son didn’t like attention. From his reaction, he was terrified of being the prince. No wonder he didn’t tell them the truth earlier.

But Sara laughed, hugging her brother. Remembering where he was, he gave a small, hesitant smile. Abigail let out a sigh of relief. Martin may be terrified, but he wasn’t going to run. He was going to stand tall and do his duty.

“Welcome home, Martin,” the queen said, walking to him and grabbing him in a hug. He immediately stiffened, but she just clung tighter. “Welcome home.”
************
The party went very well, though Martin may have thought otherwise. Abigail beamed on with pride as her son greeted everyone who came to shake hands with him. Any nervousness he felt was behind a charming smile and interested conversations. He did very well with interacting with others. Many left grinning.

At least I don’t have to teach him manners, she thought, watching as Martin greeted the ambassador from Poca correctly. She silently thanked Suit for having taught her son how to interact with society.

“So,” the ambassador was saying to her son, “when will be your first official appearance at Court?”

“Probably the day after tomorrow,” Martin said. The ambassador raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t think that I’d let him go to court when he just arrived?” Abigail asked with a huff. “He needs time to settle in and get organized. By the Seven Founders, he doesn’t even have a proper wardrobe yet.”

Martin blinked, barely covering his annoyance. Abigail just smiled at him. Her son was just too plain a dresser for his status as prince.

“Will you be attending Lady Rose’s ball tomorrow?” the ambassador asked.

“I’ve been invited….” Martin started to say.

“Then of course you’re going,” she snorted. “A little party before your first official Court appearance will be good for you.”

Her son actually glared at her then.

The Poca ambassador couldn’t linger any longer because the ambassador from Arimo was next in line to meet the prince.

It was well after dark when the queen decided it was time for the party to end. Groans were echoed throughout the ballroom and many disappointed faces because they hadn’t had a chance to meet the prince. But she was insistent. It was time for Martin to look at his new apartment. That, she felt, was something he should do privately without people gawking.

Bidding everyone goodnight, she and her children walked to the royal apartments. It was a quieter part of the palace, with only a few servants and guards. This was one of the few places the royal family could find privacy. It was their home; no one traipsed in casually.

Martin’s apartment was on the ground floor, only a hall away from the one the queen and princess shared. While Abigail would have liked for Martin to be in her apartment, she also knew that her son needed his own space. He had been living alone for all of his life. Besides, a grown man needed a place of his own.

“Well,” she said, stopping at his door. “Here we are.”

She opened the door for him, allowing him to enter first. Martin took a deep breath, shouldering his pack that he had insisted on carrying himself, and walked in. He did a quick look around, a habit he must have developed as a spy, then a slower gaze of his new apartment. He paused in the center of the room, turning full around for another slow sanction.

It was one of the simpler royal apartment, meant mostly for those not as close to the throne. However, the queen had picked this apartment for the very reason of its simplicity. The entry room was, in a word, cozy. There were no paintings hanging on the wall, revealing the cool green color. There were a couple of plush couches and oversized chairs set in a half circle around the fireplace, with a short table in the middle. The wall opposite from the entry had large double glass doors that lead out to his own private garden, walled off to give him some privacy outdoors.

“Well?” Abigail asked, watching as Sara rushed in and picked a chair to sit on. “What do you think?”

Martin gazed up at the ceiling, of the same green color as the walls, then down to the lush dark green carpet beneath his boots. “It’s a long cry from my room at the Tree,” he said, his voice too soft for her to pick up any emotion.

Sara snorted. “That’s a closet there. Literally! I mean, your closet here is bigger than what your room was.”

“Your room is through there,” Abigail said, pointing to the wall opposite of the fireplace. “Along with a closet and indoor bathroom.”

Martin glanced at the door, frowning a bit. “I’ve come a long way from sleeping under bridges.”

The joy of the moment was sucked out of her by his simple statement. She stared sadly at him, picking up his hesitant stance and slightly overwhelmed expression. He carried the bag with everything he cared to possess, in a uniform that he put on because he had no choice. It was hard to believe that he was actually the prince.

“Why are you here, Martin?” she asked softly. “You aren’t ready for this.” The deal she made with her husband was that he would prepare their son for his life as a prince while she and Sara prepared the court for his return. While the court was as ready as it ever was going to be, it was obvious that he wasn’t.

Her son took a deep breath. “You’re not going to like what I’m going to say.”

“Why?” Sara asked, frowning at him. “Why won’t we like it?”

He sighed. “I’m here to be bait.”

“What!”

Abigail didn’t even remember shouting the word. She found it hard enough to breath, little alone shout anything.

“What do you mean?” Sara asked, having jumped to her feet. “Bait?”

“This is Terk’s war now,” Martin said, his voice suddenly firm. “He’s been ordered by his king to go home and he’s ignoring that order.”

“He could have just gotten those orders,” Sara started to argue.

“Six months?” Martin asked.

That quieted her daughter.

“I don’t want Terk to ravage Aeterna,” Martin went on, the first time she saw his usual confident self. “I can’t let him. So we decided that it was time for us to trap the Mad General. I’m the best bait we have.”

Abigail felt faint. Stumbling, she sat down in the chair Sara jumped out of, rubbing her brow. Her husband agreed to this plan? Her next letter to him was not going to be a pretty one.

“Martin,” she said, shaking her head. “You are going to tell me everything.”

Her son sighed and sat down on one of the couches. He explained the plan he and his Ghosts came up with. Every detail, every possible outcome, had been discussed. Abigail listened intensely, hoping to find some flaw with the plan. However, once he was done outlining the trap, she knew Martin had no choice but to be bait.

“I guess there’s no helping it now,” she grumbled. “You’re here now. Nacre knows you’re here. There’s no possible way for you to back out now.”

“That’s why you never sent us a letter saying you were coming,” Sara figured out, leaning over the back of the couch Martin sat on. “You catch us by surprise and we’d have no choice but follow along until you told us the bad news.” She glared at him. “That was a dirty trick.”

“It had to be done,” Martin pointed out. “Neither of you would have agreed to this and kept me hidden.”

“But you aren’t ready for this,” Abigail argued. He flinched.

“No,” he confessed quietly. “I’m not. But that never stopped me before.”

No, it never had stopped him before. The queen had read all his records, all the reports he made on his spying missions. If there was one thing that struck her about her son, it was his determination to do what was required of him and to prove that he could do anything.

“Then I guess we need to press on,” she sighed, resigned to the facts. Martin wasn’t there because he was ready to be the prince. He was there as bait.

“So what’s the plan now?” Sara asked.

“We go on pretending we didn’t have this conversation. We will act as if everything is fine. Go to balls, court, smile even when it hurts…” Abigail reluctantly said. That reminded her of something. Standing up, she walked to the small table by the door, opened up the drawer and pulled out a wrapped package. “I’ve a gift for you Martin.” Her son looked at her with surprise and curiosity.

“I’ve kept this for years,” she said, walking back. “I don’t know why I did, but… I had it fixed.” She handed it to Martin. He frowned as he held it.

“What is it?” he asked, ripping away the brown paper. He blinked in surprise as he saw a small stuffed dog inside. It was off white from spending so long being stored away. But the fur was still soft and no one would know that it had one point been missing an ear, leg, and half a tail.

“That was your favorite toy,” Abigail whispered. “You hardly went anywhere without it.” She paused. Martin wasn’t Henry, her beloved two year old. No, Martin was a young man who spent his life struggling. “I know it isn’t much of a welcome home gift,” she went on, suddenly feeling very foolish. “But…” She tapered off. It seemed like a good idea when she put it in the apartment.

“Thank you,” Martin said, smiling. She couldn’t tell if it was sincere or polite smile.

“Well,” Sara said, rolling her eyes. “This isn’t awkward at all! What’s the plan tomorrow?”

Abigail smiled at her daughter. Leave it to Sara to rudely break up awkward situations. “Fairly simple,” she said. “We get Martin ready for his life as a prince. Your new clothes should be arriving tomorrow. After we make sure the clothes are fine, we’ll go shopping. Your apartment is a bit bare and if you want different furniture we’ll get it. We’ll also talk with the cook about your favorite foods, get Rowan settled in. Things of that nature.”

“And don’t forget the ball tomorrow,” Martin grumbled, glaring at the thought.

“I don’t forget balls,” Abigail chuckled. She stood up. “Well, Sara, it’s time for us to go to bed. Goodnight, Martin. I hope you like your new apartment.”

“I’ll get used to it,” Martin sighed, glancing around the room again. “Just… give me a couple days to get used to it.”

“I couldn’t ask for more,” Abigail agreed. “Everyone needs a few days to get adjusted to a new place. Come, Sara.”

Sighing dramatically, the princess followed her to the door. They opened it and were about to walk out.

“Tobby.”

Abigail froze. Slowly turning around, she saw Martin standing in the middle of the room, gazing down at the small stuffed dog. He looked up, meeting her gaze with a peculiar expression.

“This dog’s name,” he said, holding it up. “It’s Tobby, isn’t it?”

Abigail’s eyes filled with tears. It was one thing for Martin to have the Connection to prove that he was the prince. It was another to hear him connect with a past he could barely remember. She rushed at him, hugging him tight. He stiffened again, but Abigail didn’t care. He was her son. It had been years since she really hugged him.

“Welcome home, my son,” she whispered, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. “You’re home.”
*************
Martin had a quick look through his other rooms, flinching a bit at how… much it was. Sara had been right. His closet was bigger than his room at the Tree. Even the bed was bigger. He was used to sleeping on cots. This was large bed with a canopy and quilted bedspread. He shook his head. Nearly ten and a half years ago, he considered himself to be lucky enough to be sleeping under a bridge. Two years ago, he was lucky to have a room to himself.

Grabbing his pack from the first room, he dug through it and found a change of clothes to sleep in. He changed quickly in the bathroom, the only room without a large window. His bedroom had similar glass doors that lead to the garden outside. He was glad to have that garden. He had a feeling that he was going to be spending a lot of time in it.

Once changed, he decided to leave the unpacking for the next day. Not that there was much to unpack. Checking the front room again, he locked the doors and was about to go to bed when the stuffed dog caught his eye.

He picked it up carefully, staring into the glass button eyes.

“I bet I’m really different than you remember,” he said to it, feeling a bit foolish for talking to a toy. While he never gave care too much to things, there was something about this stuffed toy that stirred something in him. He couldn’t explain why he knew its name was Tobby, or even why he cared about it.

Sighing, he was about to drop it back on the couch, then decided against it. He took it into the bedroom, placing it on a pillow. He climbed into the quilted sheets, wishing it wasn’t so soft. He was used to sleeping on hard surfaces.

With a single thought, he had all the lights go out. He turned over in the bed, facing Tobby. The moonlight shown through the thin curtains and illuminated the room in a very soft light.

He stared at the toy, thinking about just how much his life had changed in a single afternoon. Much like an evening eighteen years before when he was taken.

“I guess there’s no helping it,” he sighed. “I’ve got to do this.”

The toy had no answers. He smiled. That was fine.

“Goodnight, Tobby,” he said, closing his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
************
Ah! Isn’t that precious! Martin has been reunited with Tobby. I thought it was really cute. Well, I need to work now. So until next post, enjoy the journey!