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I've alwyas considered myself rather outgoing and I'm never shy to offer a helping handbut things feel different now that mom is gone. She was always my guide, the one with the answers no one else could give me. And Viora...my own sister hates me. I have faith that that will change. She can't possibly hate me forever, can she? We're blood. I have to keep telling myself this or I'll never get out of this depression. I know I need to move on and do something. I need to go back to Glorall and start working on my goals once again. I need to show Tesseract that I wasn't a total lost cause when he took me to Spirane with him to talk alliances. He was teaching me about diplomacy then and I want to make up for it. I must seem pretty weak to her but she doesn't come off like the rumors of the swamp wolves tell. She doesn't seem blood thirsty or mean. In fact, she seems rather friendly. It could just be a hoax of course but I guess I could talk to her and find out. There's never any harm in talking, right? That's what I used to always believe but talking is what got me into this mess. Talking is what got my mother killed. I shift my weight in discomfort but she doesn't seem phased. She softens her features and her tail gives a wave which helps to relax me. She can't be all bad, right? I can see the curiosity in her eyes when I mention mom and I know instantly that she's going to ask and my throat instantly goes dry. Am I ready to talk about it? It still feels so raw. She tells me her name is Aithne and welcomes me back before asking where I hail from. This is an easy one so I smile and nod. "Yes, I used to call Glorall my home and I hope to do so again soon." When she asks about my mother, my body visibly shrinks some and my tail tucks a little. I scowl and look down, heaving a great sigh. I look toward the water as I speak, knowing that I don't want her to see the tears welling up in my eyes. "My mother...is dead. She used to live in Glorall too." I look back up at her, suddenly wanting to vent to someone, anyone. "She's dead, and it's all my fault! If I hadn't talked to that wolf and asked about her scars then she wouldn't have attacked and mom wouldn't have had to defend me! It's all my fault!" My voice ends on a sob and I take a step back as I draw a rattling breath. I know this may be too much information for the wolf. Maybe she never wanted a sob story. I just wanted to tell someone. I drop my head in shame as I stare into the water, sniffling as tears roll down my face. Tristan.male.4 years old.son of Enigma & |