It is strange how they drift away - children, that is. It is expected, of course, and entirely natural and yet still it resonates with a certain kind of strangeness. Or perhaps it is merely a symptom of their birth - after all, those who share Nari's blood remain close where the others do not. Perhaps they resent some part of their birth circumstances and in response, they believe the space they form between themselves and I - their mothers, too - can be filled with something else. How can I know? I was never wholly bothered by a lack of a father, moreso the discovery of just who he was and the lies he had woven surrounding our births. I have always been honest in that regard, at least. In any case, their distance does not bother me deeply, but I do admit it is harder to reach out to them when they put so much space between themselves and the world. Ehiyeh, in particular, but she was never truly my daughter but rather, her brother's sister. There is a difference, that I know for certain.

It was inevitable though, that I must someday make the effort to traverse that distance. I have tried already with Asriel, of course, and despite the circumstances surrounding that, I do believe it has been successful. But he is a difficult wolf (something I cannot fault him for at all, for in fact I do believe it makes me appreciate him more) and he will always be difficult to read - so difficult, I believe, that even he may never be able to read himself. Erebos was born with the distance already, but it is less a distance from his blood and more a distance from the very world itself. He does not need to be reached, I think, for those like Badar and Eira have already found a way across to him. Kamala, who can say? Not her or I but she does remind me of a certain son that I ought to make the effort with - or rather, a certain son I ought to keep a closer eye on. Their scents had met, after all, not so long ago, Kamala and Elohim. They are perhaps two sides of the same stone, less opposites and more synonyms. Different flavors of the same flesh, difference scents to the same flower. I would be an even older fool if I did not begin down Elohim's path eventually.

He is easy enough to find, though perhaps mostly because he does not mind being found. He has been away and he knows I am aware of that, just as I am aware of him having some kind of connection with Aster and the others. He is clever though, I will admit, in that his honesty permits him the ability to hide so much - half-truths, half-lies. Who taught him so well, I wonder? We are both pleasant enough, meeting on the shores in the late spring, taking a seat beside him as we both flex and stretch out in the sand. I see the lingering suspicion in his eyes though as the late-day sun shines behind us, casting our shadows out into the ocean.