Up until this moment, people could ask Atticus what his happiest moment was. They would all receive the same answer.
He did not know.
Across his lives, there had been happy days and sad days. Yet his life had always been about war and survival. Train and reach the top. It was so deeply ingrained in his mind that it had become impossible to truly feel genuine happiness.
However, the moment Atticus saw the wrinkled face of his grandmother, a warmth unlike anything he'd ever felt spread through him.
"Grandma," he said softly.
He'd reverted to his human form, tall, with flawless skin.
"A-Atticus?" Freya blinked, as though her eyes were playing tricks on her.
"Yes, Grandma. It's me. I—"
She embraced him before he could finish.
"Oh, my little boy… oh, my little boy. Look at you. You've grown so tall."
Atticus felt his eyes slowly water. He'd missed her so much. He tightened his embrace and muttered, a tear slipping down his cheek,
"I have."
