[NOUR]
Everything was quiet when Nour, Alanor, and Anhora reached Don Refugio's home. The somber mood hung in the air, but that would soon dissolve into something else: the surmised look on the villagers' faces.
They had known the prince had run away intentionally.
That he did not try to grieve.
But now, he was back. With two others.
He looked happy for a moment, then the mask they had gotten used to flipped back on, and they were staring at the same old cold prince who had been running away from everything with them.
"No…" Nour breathed.
His friends stood by him, watching as the realization dawned on the faces of the villagers.
"If you make us turn back after we ran this far, I will strangle you in your sleep with your hair," Alanor threatened, his light tone something that Anhora understood, but there was a silent plea in there.
The kind that begged Nour not to lock everyone out.
The kind that begged the prince not to keep running away.
To hold on. To stay.
