Silvertip Mountain the moon hides your pain

It takes a few seconds but he collapses to the ground and pushes up close to her. It is not the same embrace as when he’d been a newborn, or even a toddler, but she makes room for him. He’s grown so much in the last several weeks and she can’t help but wonder when it’ll stop. It isn’t until that moment that she wants to shrink him tiny until he’s a puppy, able to fit between her paws and into her chest, but she makes due with that she has. Softly, and without a word, she grooms the back of his head with a soft rumble. She disregards his weakness—she isn’t sure she’d even call it that—but she hopes to reassure him. There isn’t any words she can offer that will give him solace and so she simply exists as his mother, his protector in all things.