He wasn’t ready for her to approach him, she could garner that much from the situation at least. The rest of his signals were muddled and came off as confused- perhaps he was battling with himself, as was apparent when first he laid his eyes upon her. It seemed to come from a place even deeper than familial ties, as if there was something deep inside Shem that he wrestled with and constantly fought to overcome. Midna wondered at his existence and how he felt, if he was lonely, or frightened, and what it might have been like to grow up as he had. He was shaking before it was he froze, taking in her proclamation of ‘brother’ as if she were a wasp with a hurtful sting. It hadn’t been her intention to wound him so, and the reaction would have probably given her further insight into his psyche if she hadn’t been so concerned with his overall wellbeing.

The proof of his emotions leaks through with his words and the venom that comes with, though the tones are quiet and even subdued. The anger present is real, though, and her brows furrow in concern because she has no reason to hide her thoughts. The honesty of his words surprise her, for while he had been mostly reserved so far it seems that the words given were inescapable for him. This time she does not hesitate in her answer, unwilling to be distracted again by her internal musings. Children, is what we all are, even until our last breath. Midna pauses for a moment as if to let her words sink in, hopeful that she may reach him through his intense anger and loathing. Mistake, Bastards- these are words of untruth, for how can one know all the pieces to one story. To claim it all, one simply cannot, for always there is more for us to learn. The sudden movement he gives to step away clutches at her heart, in an uncomfortable way that threatens her throat to seize and close on itself. Still, she does not go to him, for still, Shem is not ready.

The forest sprite will be there for him each day, until he is ready, and her resolve gleams in the mismatched tones of her eyes. They search for his gaze, for she knows there is warmth that lurks there beneath the anger, even if he hasn’t yet found it for her. In place of her wish to physically reach out to him, her voice coaxes him and wills him to believe her truth. More than his blood, is what Shem is. No Bastard, or Mistake- but more. This I know. She speaks the finality of her words with confident tones, watching him still as the fat snowflakes that drift around them slowly draw their dance to a close. The blanket across the small clearing is even thicker than it previously was, and gives a sense of isolation from the rest of the world. This could be a magical place, and it was a magical place, deep in the forest that so many wolves called their home. Midna could only hope that Shem felt some sort of the magic too, and that not all would be lost within his heartfelt sorrow.