Not once¬ have any of my children come whining to me in such a way before. Yes, they have complained and cried over one sibling playing too harshly but never have they come in such a broken and diminutive manner. My heart breaks for my child as I clean his flesh wounds and wrap him in my strong embrace. He speaks of what had happened, how his siblings had betrayed him, and I can tell in his voice that their actions hurt him more than physically.

The slight twitching of his paw did not go unnoticed and when he had finished talking I gently lifted one of mine and placed it over top of his. My neck curves around as my muzzle bumps softly into his cheek before answering him in a strong yet gentle manner; a way of speaking of which only his mother could provide. ”Fret not. For as long as you are of my blood then you are worthy of everything this world has to offer you. Where I have failed, you will succeed.” I give him this comfort of words, the truth, as I keep myself near to him and watch his response.

It may be very true that motherhood has killed what once was a terrible beast – or perhaps this is only one side of it – but I do not regret showing my offspring an ounce of affection every now and then. Especially when they need it the most. Ilias has a long journey ahead of him and his siblings were only the start of something that may challenge him more than he ever believed. In these few weeks of clarity that have overcome me I can tell that I do not feel the same, even if I can register my thoughts once again, I know that I am weakened. My place in Ilias’ future is not secured and he must know these things before my time is done.