Leo's father had taught him so much. He was responsible not only for giving him the skills that allowed him to survive in the wilderness, but also for giving him all of the life lessons that had allowed him to become the person he was.
He owed his father, didn't he? Whatever his father had done, whatever he asked of him, Leo knew that it was always for his own good and for his safety. He'd always obediently followed.
Except for this time. This time he was questioning things that he'd always taken for granted. He'd always assumed that his life would be chaotic, characterized by frequent relocation. Never getting close to anyone.
He'd been so wrong.
He wondered why this time was so hard, why it was so hard to follow. He wondered if that's what growing up meant. Challenging things that you once would have accepted.
As he sat looking out the taxi window at the snow that was beginning to fall, he felt an aching in his chest. Something that he father had once told him, a part of a poem or song or something, he couldn't remember, came flooding back into his mind. "If you can dream, and not make dreams your master…" He thought it was something like that.
Was he letting his dreams, dreams of how his life could have been different without all of this running away, be the master of him?
But then what was the point of having dreams anyway, if they didn't inspire him to change things?
Looking at the snow, he remembered a promise. A dream. A face, a voice, a smile.
Some dreams were worth fighting for.