It wasn't the sight first that struck him, it was the smell. Smell can hold a memory and recall it stronger than any image or any words, the faintest drift of something and it was like being there.
But this? This was everything. There was the mix of the Ethelblossom and a faint whiff of something a little way off, an almost sweet smell; Jack knew it to be the sea, the tide always smelled like sugared lemons as it brought in the residue of the citrus bark on the rocks that sat under the waves a short way out. It was how you knew the time of day there, just by the smell.
Oh he knew it well.
He'd never expected to be back here. Not to see the dunes or the sea that he knew was just over the ridge. So close. The encampment where he lived. He could feel it all, his youth, so many buried memories.
Home.
It was only then, only after he spoke and a little while more of just remembering, did he look at him at all. And he turned his head to him, still surprised.
"I've never been back," he said. "Not since-- Not for a very long time."
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But this? This was everything. There was the mix of the Ethelblossom and a faint whiff of something a little way off, an almost sweet smell; Jack knew it to be the sea, the tide always smelled like sugared lemons as it brought in the residue of the citrus bark on the rocks that sat under the waves a short way out. It was how you knew the time of day there, just by the smell.
Oh he knew it well.
He'd never expected to be back here. Not to see the dunes or the sea that he knew was just over the ridge. So close. The encampment where he lived. He could feel it all, his youth, so many buried memories.
Home.
It was only then, only after he spoke and a little while more of just remembering, did he look at him at all. And he turned his head to him, still surprised.
"I've never been back," he said. "Not since-- Not for a very long time."