Pan was tired from running, the visions of murder dancing in his head. He’d run away when they’d asked for others to step up and help, not sure of where he could truly add value. The adults talked over him with a plan of action, and Pan could do little more than stand and gawk at the bodies. There is a shame that washes over him at the thought of his own inadequacy, for the boy had always talked a big talk… but when push came to shove, Pan was a difficult type to keep a level head under pressure.
And so, he’d run from that place, too scared to stick around even within Delumine, the place which was his home. He’d gone to his cave, afraid to step inside but more afraid to return to its dark corners alone. As he stood among his treasures, the boy had picked only his favorites – Oriens’ shell, a brilliantly white feather which Cirrus had dropped, a mysterious vial of stardust liquid, the pirate coin he’d offered once to Somnus, his thick tome on healing plants and the small collection of the plants he’d harvested. The rest, he could not carry. Pan spared only one forlorn look back at his belongings before leaving the cave behind, his satchel weighing heavily against him.
And so, the boy finds himself drawn to the sea cliffs again – his chest tight as he struggles to breathe a ragged breath to quiet his beating heart. Tears sting at his eyes and flow freely down his face, even as the boy beds down in a soft patch of long grasses, tucking his prized possessions beneath his leg as he looks out to the roaring sea. There, they would find him – scared and alone, with nowhere in the world to go. For Pan would always find his way back to the water’s edge, in some way or another, like a moth to a flame. And as he waits for what comes next, the boy weeps bitterly in silence.
