Expectations - I would like to think that I do not expect too much from the world, not anymore at least. I expect nothing more than that others will accommodate me as I accommodate them, with the same kindness I have provided for ten long years. Perhaps that is too much to expect but still, I find myself doing such a thing. Perhaps I am expecting too much when I find the stagnant scent of my son awash with blood - I expect that he is well, safe, healthy and that the blood is mere coincidence. I expect I will find him warm and cheerful within a den, perhaps with a mate and no more pain over the past. Please, if there is any chance of you - my Faol'an - ensuring this, then let it be.

I have followed him for what seems like forever - endlessly and tirelessly ensuring I have not strayed from his scent. I will find him, and I will find him safe. Even if I smell the musk of a King and Queen, I dare to cross it - to be a mother, a mother estranged for so many years, is more powerful than any Alpha. I know it is not within my nature to usually do such a thing and I find myself mumbling apologies to the night, my body low and slumped as I try to be hidden. It is a risk but risking my own body once more is worth the risk of my son being alone, being in danger. I am small and I cannot pretend that traversing the land is easy - the rocks are tall and I struggle to lift myself atop each stone, rising slowly but surely up the mountain side. It is worth it, that is what I tell myself until I reach the top, panting lightly and favoring my left front leg. It is the one raked with the claws of a cougar, scarred by the rocks and fire of my past. It aches, a merciless reminder that I have been pushed to my physical limits before but I must not stop. I go on, breaking into a lope as I hear voices, barks.

Kavik.

I hear the words then - cobwebs, saliva, wounds. Inside, I am screaming but outside, I am nothing more than a panicked mother, wide eyed and heart racing. I do not know if I have ever run so fast, but soon enough I am forced to stop, stumbling as I see the beaten form of my son. I know it is him - I could never forget his eyes, his smell, the fact I could find his father so easily in the colour of his fur. But he is savaged, his skin torn and lacquered in blood. I stand in silence for a moment, unaware of the other two, unaware that I have not only intruded but that I have run almost head long into the pack's Second. Finally, I break.

"Poppy seeds. You need them - he needs them. Cobwebs, moss, find them!"

I shout my orders to anybody, to the night for all I care, all while I begin to cleanse my sons' wounds. I should have been there. I should have defended him. I should have taught him to fight, to hunt. All I can do now is hold my breath and get the two of us through this - then, I will find who attacked him. I am not the one to fight, but perhaps this is enough that I will have to.

"Kavik... my son... my boy, stay awake, you must. Flick an ear, show me your teeth - please, let me know you're still here."