There is a certain amount of confidence that I radiate as I stand before her. I am unsure of how she will react to me, but I am still sure of myself. I am still confident and beaming, the son that she certainly should be proud of when she sees me with her eyes. I have grown to be of an all around build, her height yet lighter, a bit swifter on my paws. I hold the darkness of the pelt, the red of her belly. My very eyes are a combination of her own. I take so much after her, and yet I certainly know, that I am not her.

I do not know of this wanderlust, and perhaps I am simply too young to have experienced such a thing strongly. Sure, I have explored the depths of Moladion, but in the end, I am driven to come home, and sleep with the gentle sound of the ocean in my ears. Perhaps that will change for me one day, but for now, I cannot seem to understand why she left, why she did not indicate as such, and yet...it is hard, when she is silent against her own will. She could not tell me, not directly, even if she wanted to. But did she even try? My fur tightens upon my back, my form still remains rigid and stiff. I see the reaction on her face when she sees me, surprise and then bit of give. She cannot speak with words, but I can understand her movements. She comes to me, and I remain a statue as I allow her to lick my muzzle. I do not move as she does so. I simply allow it.

I still cannot explain the conflicted feelings that I have towards her in these moments. I am tense, my red and silver threads are prickled at her touch. I am both angered and comforted by them, ultimately leading to my rather frozen state. I feel I cannot move as she steps back to look at me, my own blue and lavender eyes looking at her, seeing her face, how she does not stand dominant or submissive. I can only look at her, my own eyes swelling a bit. She has scars upon her face- a story only her looks can tell. I look at them, my rigidity slightly failing me.

I wondered then where she had gone,. I wonder what she had seen, what stories she would tell me if she could. So much that could be told, explained, and yet it was never to be. The slight noise from her throat only brings back my rigidness, my ears standing tall as I look back at her eyes. For so long she had left, for so long I had grown without her, and that pain still felt like a soft acid that was burning into my face after her kiss.

It appears this emotion thing was not something I could control as I would like to. It was irrational to some extent, to be angry at the woman who birthed me, who cannot speak to explain her actions. I am given to think of Ruvindra, the white wolf who I had met in Iromar, how she was rarely spoke of, how I was never led to see her despite being only a pack away. Had she wronged them? Had they not forgiven her? Had they wronged her? Too many questions arose in my head from that meeting, too many and I...I can't even ask my mother about them.

I let my head give way to a nod, my muscles loosening only slightly as I walk forward. There is a deadly silence to my walk, one that imitated Caligula so well. As I step forward, I allow my eyes to catch her, my head to turn slowly as I begin to walk past her. I am not pleased with her, not happy and I cannot give myself to rid of these feelings quite yet, but that does not mean I do not want my mother home and protected, so no other scars may lay on her body. No, I will escort her into the pack, I will ensure she knows Father is well. I will be by her side even when I do not want to be due to my emotions. My black paws pause only a foot or so away, my head turning to see if she understands that I will walk with her further into the pack. I am glad to have my mother back, and the slightest tug of a half grin creeps onto my muzzle momentarily as I look at her. It will take a bit of time for me to heal - but I will always heal.