Blackfeather Woods night shift

Potema's words sent a flicker of nervousness down his spine, and when Nemesis, in all her dark glory, approached in the manner of a nightmare, his uncertainty increased. Surely they would not be turned back, not now? 

His fathers response was as expected, average, though the boy had not known that his father knew any of the healing arts before this moment. Perhaps, should he have, he would have sought him out and asked for instruction. Yet his thoughts were swept away by his mother's desperate words, and in a moment he had retreated to her side, standing alongside her and glancing at her with a look equal parts awe and love. She would do this all, for him?

He ought to speak, stand for her, yet for a moment he was simply to flabbergastered by all she had sacrificed for him that he was stunned into silence. He truly ought to say something, but his mind was wiped clean of what he could, so he simply stood by his mother's side, fur brushing against hers as his gaze turned to the silencer, waiting with trepidation.