Legs went rigid, his head lifting and turning towards the minute sound of movement upstream from him. Ears pressed forward and nostrils flared, certain beyond a doubt that he was not so alone as he had thought he was moments before. Despite how strong his other senses were to make up for his lack of sight, there would always be things that would slip past him - like his own mother watching him from just the other side of the river. The sound of her paws touching upon stones as she crossed the river made his nose point almost directly at her, ears twitching to follow each sound of movement. But before his mind could even register what action he should - or could - take, the humming began, and from the first note he knew exactly who it was that shared this space with him. His mother, Ava. She was a force to be reckoned with, a thing Cartel and his siblings had learned from the moment they drew their first breath. The boy admired his mother greatly and he never wanted to let her down.
The smooth tones of her voice reach his ears, and with that he knew within a few inches estimation how far away from him she was. He...hadn't ventured that far upstream before, preferring to go downstream and towards the coast when he did roam the area. But he was drawn to her, and so he began to walk towards her. Each step is taken in much the same way he had walked since birth. There is the barest moment of hesitation in each foot fall, testing the ground that he is unfamiliar with to ensure he will not trip or otherwise injure himself. Still, it has become a more fluid movement than it had been in his youngest days - not yet perfected and imperceptible, but growing closer to it with each passing day.
It was her second question that made him stop short, leaving yet 4 wolf lengths between them and halting there. Blind as he was, he was unaware of facial expressions and body language; the only things he displayed were instinctual. And so, rather than a furrowed brow like most would display with frustration, his lips curled back slightly and the bridge of his nose wrinkled. But the grimace stopped there, no growl evident in his voice when he replied, "That which I was born with." The fact that he was disfigured, malformed, imperfect, lacking, damaged goods, was something his sisters had never let him forget while they were all still on their mother's milk. Ava had never said such things outright. Such torment had only ever come from the two perfect daughters. And yet, the heaviness of Ava's scrutinizing gaze had always weighed upon him. His expression softened as unseeing eyes gazed in her general direction, landing moreso upon the side of her neck than her face. "Will they dig the weakness out of me, as they did to Abel?" It is in this that his true weakness is revealed - worry over an event that may not ever come to pass.
|