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+--- Thread: Firefly Ravine oh, mother: tell me more. . . (/showthread.php?tid=35190)
oh, mother: tell me more. . . - Cam - June 14, 2019
mummy had never waken up. cam wondered if her dreams had been so good that she had just chosen to stay asleep. whatever the case, she did not stir again. his father and others had tried to explain the situation to him, but he didn't understand. he couldn't grasp the concept.
and as he watched her burial within the field of thorny red flowers they called 'roses,' he grappled with the abstract. was there a here and there? how could you just be here one moment and gone the next? if the light went out—like it had with the butterfly, like it had with lily—where did it go? why did it die?
restless, many days later, he began to follow the minnow stream, which eventually flowed into a much larger and faster stream that he watched with interest. and then he followed that. he was leaving the willows behind, which in any other circumstance would have frightened him, except that since mummy had gone to sleep forever, he didn't feel anything but confusion. certainly not fear.
it was a dangerous journey for a wolf so small, but cam didn't know that. he picked his way down the ravine, stepping carefully, his stomach clenching as he took fearful glances over the edge. finally, though, he was on more solid ground, right up next to the river. it was evening, the sun was nearly down, and there were little floating, glowing lights. . .everywhere.
cam stared at them with wonder, watching the patterns in which they moved. he'd seen them before, but never this many, and never this beautiful. he scampered forward several steps, rushing to the den to ask mummy about them—
but the den wasn't here. and mummy wasn't here. just like the butterfly, she had gone to sleep, never to wake up.
so, for the first time in days and days, he felt something. he felt too much of something. his eyes grew wet, his throat closed tight, and his chest began to heave with sobs. cam sank to the ground, pressing his face against his outstretched forelegs. he didn't understand, and he couldn't even ask her about it. it wasn't fair.
mummy,he choked out, weeping, the little lights all muddling together as his vision blurred.
RE: oh, mother: tell me more. . . - Moor - June 14, 2019
How strange and incredible life could be. Moorhen could hardly believe that she'd been reunited first with Coelacanth, and then with Julep. Surely, there would be more chance twists of fate in her life. She was yet young, and the world was so wide and open. All things lost can be found again, she thought to herself as she ventured inland once more.
It was cool and damp in the ravine, which suited her just fine after the sweltering heat of the day. The burly shewolf picked her way through the quiet rush of the current, now and then leaning down to lap at the stone-flavored waters. She thought of Doe and, for the first time, did not feel anxious or afraid at the memory of the Siren of Tara, as Coelacanth had once called her. The woman was dead, now, and Moorhen felt, finally, that she was out of reach of the red bitch's teeth. Thinking about her now was like thinking about the ocean: it was just another part of her legacy. Another pillar which she had climbed as a girl, but now towered over in her own glory.
She was wholly herself, and it was good.
The raven's footsteps slowed when she heard soft cries up ahead, but she forged on until she stood quietly before the small, weeping child. "Are you all alone?" the woman asked, lowering herself to her belly in the shallow waters of the river's edge.
RE: oh, mother: tell me more. . . - Cam - June 20, 2019
through his tears, he could have pretended it was mummy. he almost did. if she hadn't spoken, he might have buried himself within her pelt, ignoring the foreign smell, the wrong brown tint to her fur. but her voice was so completely unlike his mother's that it brought him stumbling upright, blinking and backing away, ebony pelt bristling with mistrust and anxiety.
not alone,he retorted, tail lashing. except i am. i'm all alone. he had lana and ziggy, still, and daddy, but they were in the willows. not here. and mummy. . .
a fresh wave of sobs began to bloom, breaking down his bravado bit by bit.
not alone,cam repeated, although this time, it was through sniffles, not hisses, that he delivered the sentiment. he plopped back down on his behind, crying senselessly, wishing he were anywhere else but here, in this moment. what a terrible, awful moment to be trapped in.
eventually, he fled from the woman and made his way back home, where he'd stay hidden in the shadows for a long while.