The sobs felt as though they were echoing through Theron's heart and skull, pulsing and bouncing across in waves that seemed to force him to listen to them.
A hint of clarity returned to his eyes, and then confusion. Looking down, he saw the arms around him.
They didn't look particularly strong, a bit chubby, short stubby fingers gripping onto what remained of his torn, tattered, and blood-stained robes.
They were the arms of a middle-aged woman who had lived a long, full life, the sort of arms you would see on a loving mother and a caring wife.
To Theron… they almost felt so… so foreign.
He couldn't even recall the last time he had been hugged by anyone.
"I'm sorry, Theron. I'm sorry…"
Theron blinked, the words reverberating through his ears in an odd way. It almost felt like it was running through his chest and then exiting his ears rather than coming in the normal way. The feeling made him a bit disoriented, throwing his balance off.
