Soren

Soren nods, suppressing a flash of irritation at his father's detached and pre-emptive communication. Soren was young but he got the message. Duty first, curiosity second.

He pulls a rifle of his own from the rack, though this one is considerably smaller. He begins to go through the task of checking it and getting it ready, reveling in the details the task places on him, freeing him of the burden of a mind with too much time to overthink the events of life.