He couldn't stop thinking of them, their eyes, their hair, their skin, their scent. What did their lips taste like? Did he look different from when he had left all those years ago? Volo sighed could not recall the last time he had a home cooked meal or even felt a pillow under his head. His clothes were stained with blood and grime and yet he was forced to keep moving. But that all over now. Now he had freedom, he could see them again.

He had been a warrior practically his whole life and now, now he simply wanted to be a man and hold them in his arms if they would still have him...

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