It's been a long time since Jericho has even thought about his family — longer than he'd like to admit.  His childhood is made up of flashes in his mind, and suddenly just... nothing.  He remembers leaving his birthclan for a long time and then returning to find that nothing was the same.  He carried that guilt with him for a long time, he carried all of that regret and longing for a place that no longer existed.  Eventually he found a new place and began calling that home, and for a while it felt like a betrayal until it just didn't anymore.  He figures that's when he learned to let go, when he realized that he'd never see any of his childhood friends and family again and it was best to simply move on.  So he did.  He's thought exceedingly little of the people and places of his youth ever since.

Similar to Bridgette, Jericho tends to use exploration as a form of particularly pleasant escapism.  On one hand he's trying his best to get to know every dip and rise in the earth of the territory that's somehow supposed to be his, but on the other he simply takes solace in the canopy.  Nature has always been a kind reassurance — especially the flowers.  The little tabby likes to go herb hunting in his free time, and not only for supply.  New and alien as this territory is, it's nice to think that marigolds are still marigolds and lavender still lavender no matter where he goes.  It's a comforting reminder, a beautiful constant.  Whenever he can he spends his time wandering aimlessly, collecting plants in the little leather satchel that drags just slightly by his side.

He's just closing his bag when he hears muffled voices carried in the passing breeze.  Ears pricked, the Sunhavener moves to investigate, wondering vaguely as to what it might be — new as they are, there have been few visitors as of yet.  Jericho arrives as Bridgette finishes speaking, but he pauses before doing so himself, stricken with the familiarity of the stranger's scent.  It's one of those smells that takes you back to a different time, but exactly what it is he cannot place.  He finds his brows furrowing in thought — and then she speaks her name, and suddenly the puzzle piece clicks into place.  "Warsongs," the Helion echoes, both in vague disbelief and confusion, as if he's uncertain that it could be true.  It is though; he doesn't know how, but he can tell.  "I-I — I mean, yeah, um, it's me," he adds hurriedly, shaking himself from his train of thought, "H-How've you been?  I, um... it's been so long, I, ah, I didn't think..."  The blind feline finds himself trailing off, gnawing gently upon his bottom lip in contemplation once more.  He didn't think he'd ever see her again?  No, he supposes not, but he hesitates at saying it aloud.  The ginger tabby's words seem to hover in the air until finally he smiles; it's meek, and yet almost relieved in its tired warmth.  "I... um, sorry, i-it's good to see you again."