Pipit arrived home and greeted his mom with a kiss on the cheek. Trudging to the far recessed wall that served as his living space, he flopped onto his neatly-made bed.
"How was school, darling?"
"Fine. Tiring. We practiced swordsmanship." Levering himself up on his elbows, he asked "Did you open the shop at all today?"
Mallara smiled at her son, "The shop? Oh, not today."
"You didn't open it yesterday either," Pipit noted, sounding worried. "Or the day before that."
She waved her hand dismissively. "I know that, dear. It's just, your father was the one who really ran things. It's tough to get it done on my own- all the bookkeeping and inventory and sales. I'd really rather wait for him to get back."
Pipit groaned and laid back on the bed. Not this again. "Mom...he's not coming back."
"Nonsense," Mallara responded airily, smile never slipping.
"If he was alive, don't you think he would have come home by now?" Pipit snapped. "Or at least let us know that he's all right?"
The day his father left the island on a business errand, he told Pipit that he'd be back soon. Later, after months of searching, the knights of Skyloft could only report that Harrie was last seen on Gwyre Island. He'd stopped long enough to pick up supplies before taking off once again, presumably for home.
There were two theories about his father's disappearance. Windstorms were not unheard of in the skies near Gwyre Island. If a storm had overtaken him, his father and the loftwing could have plummeted to their deaths, taken by the clouds.
The other theory was that Harrie didn't want to be found- that he had abandoned his family to start a new life in a distant island.
Mallara said nothing, and Pipit dropped the conversation. His father had to be dead. It was the only explanation that made any sense.