Well...here goes.
#4
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Jefferson didn't have the capability to use both arms to help hoist the boy up to safety, but the five-year-old brute was lucky to have developed such muscle in his good arm (due to overuse, of course) in substitution for the other. He pulled the yearling up to safety and smiled as the boy began to speak, chatting on and on, always the talkative pup he'd been so far back. It hadn't been easy to introduce him to hunting when he'd never been able to shut his yapper -- the cyclops had scolded him then, but it evidently never sank in. Had he been as young as back then, though, he might not have been able to stand up and brush himself off after such a stumble and fall.


"I've aged in more ways than one, boy," the Patriarch smirked. Recent weeks had been overwhelming; even though he wasn't as young as he used to be, the brute was still learning. Tyrone probably wouldn't have understand how much his mind had aged simply because of his talks with Geneva and the realization that he was a parent. Ty sank a little when he continued, at which the Patriarch straightened his back and nodded. "Of course, Ty. This will always be your home." ...A bit too sentimental sounding for Jefferson. "Your dad is still around, you know."

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