The Moondance Packhouse’s lobby was a testament to its heritage, with its rough-hewn beams, stone fireplace, and cozy arrangement of leather chairs and woven rugs. Frederik’s chest heaved as he caught his breath. The flight back had been a blur of urgency and dread.
“Frederik?” a voice called softly from behind one of the pillars.
Frederik whipped around, nearly stumbling in his haste. His mother, Crimson, emerged from the shadows, her movements slow and deliberate. She brushed off dirt from her worn cloak, eyes immediately honing in on her son’s troubled expression. Frederik rushed to her, urgently grabbing her arm, which made her flinch.
“Mother,” Frederik began, his voice edged with concern. “You’re back?”
He gave her a big bear hug, feeling the tension in her muscles as she embrac
