Hideaway Strath that's the language that stuns, scars, breathes into you

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The darkness returns but it is not the same. Roarke does not understand that he will never again perceive darkness in the same manner that he had for the first weeks of his life. In the now, it is his greatest source of comfort and it eludes him. There is still light even as he buries his face into his mother’s plush pelage as if he could worm his way back into her womb; but already he forgets the comfort that the womb had given him for the two months of his making. It is Lotte’s presence, her warmth, the embracing tickle of her silken fur against his face that offers him comfort — in the same manner that a human child turns to a blanket. The reassurances of his parents fall of deaf ears as Roarke tries to pretend with impressive tenacity that it didn’t happen at all; but he must pull his face from his mother’s belly to breathe and he does so begrudgingly, taking in a greedy breath of air that has the potential to rise into a banshee scream when there is proof of light. It is defiant and so is his developing body. His eyes blink open slowly. Progression is as defiant as the tenacious Roarke Fearghal and survival demands he does not fight what is merely inevitable. Roarke relinquishes the victory with a heavy sigh and searches the strange, milky shadows that he will come to recognize as his Family in weeks to come.

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