As he trudged through the pouring rain, his lean but trim figure silhouetted in the dark blanket of night as flashes of lightning streaked across the black sky like cracking whips.
The war had made him look older than his years with the innocence of youth stripped away by the harsh realities of battle.
About four years had passed since he had left his father's cottage as a naive teenager filled with dreams of glory and heroism.
Now, he returned as a weather-beaten soldier, bearing the weight of untold stories in his weary eyes as his sword and battle axe hung over his back with his boots soaked wet.
He was no longer a teenager but a young man who had experienced battle.
Kylan wasn't sure what awaited him on the other side of his father's cottage door as he made it past the old wooden gate that creaked as it swung in the rain unlatched. Its weathered and worn appearance was not just a testament of the weather and years gone by but it also bore the scars of war and attacks.
Vines and ivy had crawled up its posts, weaving through the lattice of slats. The hinges, rusted and tired, groaned in protest with each movement, while a faint scent of nostalgia lingered in the air, stories of good days also hung in the air.
Despite its age, the gate stood steadfast, a guardian marking the threshold between the raging world outside and the fortress within.
He could remember the day he left home for the war front.
His beloved mother lady Elowen packed dried nuts and fruits neatly into a bag and placed them beside his blanket alongside the jacket he was gifted by his father.
He recalled how happy he was when he received his sword and battle axe for his eighteenth birthday. The same axe and jacket were on his back. The jacket had almost become threadbare because it had also seen many weather conditions and battles.
Everything around him had changed - the village seemed smaller, the trees taller, and the walls withstood the weather quite well over the years.
And amidst all the transformations, his father's cottage stood as a steadfast anchor of not just their family but the clan of Oberon. The clan had seen and survived many wars in the village of Emberfall.
And now it was his and his surviving family's responsibility to protect their legacy.
The wooden porch of the cottage creaked under his foot as he stepped on it with the rain drumming on the roof. Kylan hesitated for a moment as his hand hovered over the door that seemed to loom larger than life in front of him.
What awaits him on the other side? Is his father still alive?
And how about his mum who used to wait on him with warm meals? Or would he find only echoes of the past and what was left of the ruins left behind, fading into the shadows of time?
With another flash of lightning, he could see the ruins surrounding him with the door of the barn to the left of the house unhinged and lurching.
With a deep breath, he was about to push the door open when he heard a sound. He could sense a movement behind him even with the rain drumming hard all around.
His instincts kicked in and he was in defence mode as he unhinged his axe and was ready for whatever was in the shadows.
"Who's there?!" Kylan bellowed as he turned around in a crouched position.
He was suddenly filled with strength for someone who had travelled long and could barely part his chapped lips.
In a flash, the Weimaraner lurking to the left of where he was crouching pounced on him and was snarling aggressively.
"No, stop! Get off me!"
Kylan screamed as he fell to the floor and struggled with the dog that had been watching him from the shadows.
He pushed with all his limbs and hurled the dog into the air. It crashed into the pillar from the side of the house where it launched at him.
The beast got back on its feet as Kylan scrambled off the floor. Its piercing blue eyes locked onto his, filled with primal aggression that sent chills down his spine.
The dog's teeth bared, its low growls reverberating through the night as it snarled ferociously, determined to defend its territory.
Again, it launched at the tired soldier who had barely taken any weight off his back. In mid-air, Kylan could see its silver coating as lightning flashed as the dog made another attempt on him.
Adrenaline surged through him as he instinctively raised his arms to shield his face from the snapping jaws while his heart pounded in his ribcage as he reached for his axe.
With each attempt to bite, the Weimaraner's teeth grazed his jacket, a hair's breadth away from making contact with his arm. The sound of their struggle thudded the floor, a battle of wills unfolding between man and beast.
With a mixture of fear and resolve in his voice, he began to speak in a calming tone, hoping to soothe the agitated dog.
"Easy now, boy. It's okay," he murmured, trying to convey that he had non-threatening intentions through the tension of the standoff.
His words seemed to hang in the air, mingling with the dog's snarls and the tension of the moment.
"Easy Swifty. It's me, boy. It's me."
Despite the chaos of the encounter, there was a strange connection brewing between them, a silent understanding that transcended the aggression. Slowly, the dog's snarls softened, its body language shifting from aggression to caution.
With a final wary glance, the dog let go of its attempt to bite. With his heart still racing in the aftermath of their intense exchange, he slowly reached out for the dog that was now crouching close to his face as it was beginning to recognise who it was.
With a sigh of relief, Kylan dropped his head to the wooden floor and smiled as Swifty climbed onto him while trying to lick his face and wagging his tail restlessly. He and this puppy had parted almost four years ago.
Swifty had grown so much while he was away and he had forgotten they had a dog. The rain had subsided by this time and Swifty's barks reverberated into the night as they had their moment.
Whoever was by the window trying to slightly peel the blinds could tell that the chaos outside had died down and it was a bit safe now.
"Swifty, are you okay boy?" Lady Elowen called out as the lamp she was holding spilt some rays out the window.
The dog shifted its attention from Kylan on the floor to the human in the house and barked joyfully as if to tell her that she had an unexpected guest.
"Is anyone out there?" She inquired.
With a deep breath, Kylan pushed himself off the floor and made for the window.
"It's me, mother. Your son. I'm home."
Lady Elowen took another peep from the small window as she raised the lard lamp above her head to identify who it was outside.
She couldn't see his face properly but she trusted the dog's excitement enough to risk opening the door.
She set the lamb down and unbolted the door's locks one by one as her heart skipped to know which of her sons it was that had come back to her.
Slowly, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, the dim light of the flickering lamp casting his strange shadow on the wall where his first memories were formed.
The cottage was exactly as he remembered it - the same rough-hewn furniture, the sturdy walls that had witnessed countless days of laughter and sorrow.
It was a place frozen in time, a relic of a bygone era that seemed to exist outside the boundaries of the war-torn world that Kylan had just returned from.
His eyes scanned the foyer into the living area in a flash and then back into his mother's eyes.
He looked into his mother's misty hazel eyes, a mix of green and brown, reflected a depth of emotions as she came close to her son and drew him in for a warm hug. Her chestnut hair, with streaks of grey at the temples, fell in gentle waves around her shoulders, a testament to the years she's seen.
Despite the tension in her posture, her demeanour is one of stoic strength and overwhelming love, as she welcomes her son back home with open arms.
He couldn't even move from the wave of emotions going on inside of him and in his drenched condition — He was his mother's boy and a soldier who hadn't had love or a mother's hug for so long. But he was still his mother's son!
"Kylan. My baby is that you?" She cooed.
"Yes, mother. It's me."
"I thought I'd lost you too."
The torrential rain had drenched Kaylan to the bone as he stood before his mother, his eyes also misty from the emotions whirling inside him.
Without a word, his mother drew him into a warm, tight hug, disregarding the chilled rain that had drenched him seeping into her clothes but also the warmth of his presence.
At that moment, everything faded away — the war, the pain, the distance — as they held onto each other, a son seeking solace and a mother giving all the love she had to offer warmed him to his bone marrow.
Time stood still as they were lost in the emotional embrace, finding comfort and strength in each other's arms amidst the storm outside.
Only when Swifty had barked them back to reality did mother and son realise they hadn't locked the door and it was unsafe to leave it open.
The rain resumed falling again in heavy sheets outside, drumming a sombre melody against the cottage. Kaylan, like he forgot something, jolted back and held his mother by the shoulders and asked
"Mother, where's my Father?" His voice carried the weight of his concern.
Swifty immediately ran back to his spot outside with his eyes piercing the darkness from where he watched the house.
His mother's gaze met his, and a mixture of relief and sadness flickered in her eyes after they had bolted the door. "Oh, my dear Kaylan," she began, her voice soft yet concerned.
"Your father... he's in the hidey-hole, recovering."
Kaylan's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the hidey-hole. It had always been a place of safety, a secret refuge passed down through generations as it could remember.
"Why, Mother? What happened?"
With a heavy sigh, his mother explained,
"Our clan was attacked again, Kaylan. The dry winter has been harsh, and food has been scarce. Your father was injured trying to protect us. We had to retreat to the lair for safety after other clan members helped to ward them off."
Tears welled up in Kaylan's eyes as he processed the news. "I had no idea, Mother. I should have been here. How is he? I need to see him."
His mother reached out and took his hand, her touch a soothing balm.
"You couldn't have known, my son. We were waiting for the first rains, hoping they would bring relief. And you brought the spring with you. As for your father, he is fast asleep."
As the fire crackled in the hearth, he felt a mix of emotions swelling within him. "I need to see my Father," he thought to himself.
His mother nodded, her eyes brimming with gratitude and love. "Go, Kaylan. But see that you don't wake him. He will be glad you are back home safely. The first rain always brings new beginnings."
With a resolve, Kaylan made his way to the hidden entrance of the hidey-hole, heart heavy yet cheery of the memories that awaited him in the depths of their sanctuary.
Carefully, he opened the door of his family's lair to avoid waking his father up.
He walked over gently to where his father was sleeping to avoid tripping over anything on the way in the poorly lit but warm room. He quietly bent over his father's figure to see his face and evaluate the wounds he had sustained.
He knelt beside his divan with tears rolling down his eyes as he saw his father lay there helplessly.