Arrow Lake verräter

Her marred brow knit with some confusion at the talk of fathering, Mahler’s declination of thinking her utterly gone, and then of her value regarding Diaspora. She would neither praised him or condemn him for such effrontery, for she understood well the message beneath his words: heal, and move forward. Oh, she knew she would— knew it in the way she blinked away these furious tears, rubbed them from her snout. 

To touch anyone but her children— no, she would shy, she would flinch, and she would keep a weather, argent eye on that horizon. ”Multumesc, Mahler,” was all Aurëwen found within her fragmented self, her unlike-most-wolves person to say, brow knitting further.

She rose, then, and delicately began to pick her way towards her children, and though she crooned to them with echoey smiles, her bony hips canted; her thin shoulders gone stiff.

...And this life, here, even with the lives, the comforts that motherhood had brought to her? It gladdened her, endlessly so.

But she was still a fool, too, who would forever feel everything so entirely.

last one from me <33