Garret stopped and turned toward Wulf. “When is the right time, Wulf? When it arrives, will there be a large sign with the words “right time” written on it? Otherwise, how will we know when we have reached the right time? Tell me, Wulf, because I need to know.”
Garret heard his voice and grimaced. He hoped he sounded majestic, but instead, Garret heard desperation, unease, and worst of all, he was pleading with Wulf to understand.
“Wulf, the time is right when we say it is so. None of our forefathers knew they had the right time before they achieved greatness. Portus, the King of Kings, didn’t know if he could unite the dragons during the age of fire, but he did, and you know how? He started. He took the first step.”
The second wind that spurred Garret died, and with it, the last bit of his energy. Deflated, he told Wulf. “Right now, today, we started. We took the first step. Believe in me,” Garret pleaded. “Believe that we will achieve something great.”