Wapun Meadow learning that i’m deserving of love and the peaceful heart

down down down; she tumbled, fell, riotously bleeding. the taste of it was a thousand memories recognized, full throated longings. the sound of his own affliction slid needlepoint straightaway into a vein.
mother. life-giver. indra scrabbled for purchase amid the growing drifts, upon the churning earth. merrick followed, wraith at his heels, twinned shadows of death.
the boy’s screams had left merrick unsettled; the unsurety of his victim’s death had left him bereft. indra did not fight; merrick descended upon her in a flash of wild teeth.
he choked her name through jaws that sought to rend and cut, for each drop of his mother’s blood that fed the snowbound earth was a lessening of her power over him.
soon it would be over; he searched for her expression beneath his frenzy, beneath the hot driving of his own tears, the sobbing cruel lamentations that tore his throat even as merrick continued to clash with her in the mess of muddied loam and her own leaking wound. 
birth; mother’s milk. the scent of the den wherein he had come alive with a first putrid breath.
over over over over
”mom,” merrick grit out before his bloodied jaws lunged for her throat.