He gripped the rail. Wood slivers dug into his thick skin. He kicked the post again and again. He banged his big toe. The small ache stopped him. It was as if his body was finally able to express the pain raging within him. Spent, he bowed his head.He stared at the moss covered stones littering the loch’s shore. His father was gone. Part of him felt relieved that his father no longer suffered. His stomach churned at that betraying thought. Was it wrong to feel that? Was it wrong for him to want his father here now?He should have been here…before his father became ill. If he had come, he could have given his father peace. But Caelen had been selfish. He should have been a better son and heir.He was never ready to face his clan and most importantly, his father. He couldn’t return without being the man the clan needed. He had disappointed his father with Dairmad. He still believed he made the correct choice in his actions. He never told the truth. How did one share the story without destroying a father’s life?
