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I know well the guilt of losing a parent. My own mother died protecting me. You see, I was the one to approach the wolf with scars. I was a curious yearling and inquisitive of the world around me. I asked the wolf where she got her scars, never for once thinking it would offend her. Well, it did. Enough to make her attack and it's lucky Enigma was there or I would have been wolf chow. I've never been a fighter and back then, I didn't even know how to defend myself. I'd always scolded Viora when she jumped me so I never really learned how to fight or even spar. I would have been a goner. But Enigma was there and she jumped in the way to protect me. She fought with the scarred up female and then she died. She saw me hiding under a bush, crying as I watched her slowly die and her eyes met mine. Her last word was to me: Run. And that's exactly what I did. Viora came after me and she told me off for leaving mom to die. She's blamed me for her death ever since. I guess I can't blame her. If I had been anything of a fighter, I could have helped, maybe sacrificed myself to save her. But I didn't and now she's dead. That's how I lost my only living parent and became an orphan. My sister stopped talking to me after that, only finding me to attack. Now she's avoiding me altogether and I guess that's better than the alternative. I wonder if she's hunting down mom's killer. I almost wish I was helping her now. I look up when I hear someone approaching, the soothing smell of honey wafting into my nostrils as the pretty female stops a few yards away. I prick my ears and wag my tail, welcoming her company. At her polite queston, I smile. "Fair, yourself?" I turn to fully face her, taking a seat in the sand by the shore. I tilt my head. "You're damp. Did someone push you in the water or was it voluntary?" I can't help but ask, my eyes gleaming a little slyly. Tristan.male.8 years old.son of |