For the first time, Sven had made his way down to the river alone. The images taken in by his remaining good eye were now clear and sharp, and with every moment that he moved and tested, he was getting more and more used to the lack of depth perception. Even without that information, his mind was experienced enough to map out what needed to be done and instruct the rest of his body. There were some times when he stumbled, when he missed the mark, but those moments were becoming fewer.
He was all but back to full health, and his thin patience was doing its best to convince him that the remaining percentage of unwell did not matter. He was still him, still an Archer, a capable father, a strong leader. His pale tongue curved through the water as he drank, muscles coiled but features thoughtful. Yes, this was still his pack. Just a few more days now, and he would prove it.