It took a good while for Lorcan to find his way back to the village, but he had his wand and some sense of direction. He made it to Emmeline's hut within the hour that he wrote her, telling her he would come back. His clothes were tattered and his jaw was covered in the patchy beginnings of a beard, but he strolled in as though he hadn't been gone for days. As though his stomach wasn't protesting in hunger and his head wasn't lighter than a red balloon.
"Em?" Lorcan called, voice gruff from disuse. He blinked owlishly, his eyes still adjusting to the dim light of the hut when they landed on the silhouette of a figure laying on the bed that belonged to Emmeline. "¿Estás aquí?"