Blackfeather Woods You cannot let your parents anywhere near your real humiliations

Beneath her gaze the boy had shifted, uncomfortable, fearing that she might be able to see right through him. His worries went unsupported by any sort of evidence, mere conclusions that he'd drawn in a moment's notice. He'd upset her, angered her, and he wanted to right the wrongs he'd committed. It was difficult to do so, however, when one's voice refused to work properly. She'd questioned his being there, prompted him to speak, but no words would come out. Several times had his mouth opened, only to shut directly afterwards as he'd discovered that there was nothing there waiting to slip from his tongue. He'd cast his gaze away from her face, letting it delve into the darkness to roam over the sleeping forms of her children—his siblings. Related only partially by blood, but he'd wanted for there to be more between them, deep down, since Nemesis had easily become the only mother in his life.

"They're bigger now," he'd eventually been able to say. The words were simple, meaning little to ordinary ears, but were of great importance in his mind as he'd recalled what he'd said to Nemesis. How they'd been too small, unable to do anything, and so he hadn't wanted anything to do with them. That hadn't been entirely true, of course, he'd simply been wary of them for they each possessed the ability to steal Nemesis away from him. By saying what he had, he'd hoped to convey that he was at least making an effort, but knew not how well his words might be interpreted—did she remember what he'd said before, or had her anger at the time been too great? "I don't want to wake them up..." It was an indirect request for her to come out, though he was, in his own way, also concerned about ruining the children's sleeping schedules.