Perhaps the image he had of his mother felt shattered, but he had begun to realize that she was rather a painting that had gotten wet and the dye had run off the page. The image was repairable, and the new product would be all the more beautiful one, for its subject was more complicated and intricate than before. Sin buried his selfish ideals so deep in his heart that, for the time, he forgot them so that he could get the glimpse of understanding about his mother. He couldn’t understand the loss of an imprint, but he knew how deeply she cared for him. Sinclair could see that she was doing what she thought was the right thing; she was trying to do the very best she could for him as his mother.
Thus, by way of shoving his emotions aside, he forgave her. He wasn’t sure that his forgiveness was relevant to her or if she needed it or if he even should feel like he had to forgive her, but it was necessary for him. This step would help to clear the emotion he had buried in order to understand Sinopa, though for right now, the two remained separate; as if his unconscious mind were separate from his conscious thought. The two would merge when he had time alone to think, as was the nature of his introverted processes. For now, he only wanted his mother to know that he was there for her, as she had always been for him. Sin did not flinch away from her comforting tongue, for he very much appreciated it and it helped in drying his tears. He would have to be strong for Sinopa, especially since it would have taken so much of her discipline and strength to tell him of her own mistakes.
It was a rare gift to be able to see, acknowledge, and deal with one’s own mistakes. Sin glanced up at mother when she spoke to him of the den she once occupied. He was surprised that his mother had been a guard, honestly. He thought her more of an advisor or diplomat, but at the same time, he pleased him slightly. He had chosen the path of a warrior, of a guardian, and somehow the thought that he and she were still somewhat alike made him happier. Sin perked his ears and he watched Sinopa as she trotted towards the land bridge and told him of her plans. He was going to meet his extended family? Sin wondered if this meant that his suspicions were true that they didn’t even know he existed.
But, he supposed, this meant his mother was facing a sort of fear? He felt somewhat insulted and sad that she had never told them of him, as if she was ashamed of his existence. However, as he had his feelings of anger before, he dismissed the dark swell of emotion to his unconscious mind and saw Sinopa as a mother, trying to right whatever wrongs she felt she had created. He respected her for that, and would not force upon her his sadness. She was trying to make it up to him, and that was enough to make him cheerful. Sinclair waved his tail slowly and he looked back at the pack’s small field in the midst of great trees. He shook his head and leaped off the high rock to follow Sinopa back to the shore. This place was perhaps a happy place for his mother, but it was a desolate place for him. He did not expect he should return anytime soon.
“Non, puto libet ire domum,” No, I think I’d like to go home, Sinclair told her as he passed her, eager to leave the chilled place behind him. |