October 11, 2019, 01:30 PM
She insisted that the children were plump enough as it is and that he should have the rabbit. Although he still was not entirely convinced, her remark about their hunting lessons was reasonable enough that he complied. “Alright, alright. Thank you,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Perhaps I can help with their hunting lessons. I think I still have a good few runs left in me.” More so since children were often taught with small game. Besides, it felt like ages since he’d last had the opportunity to safely partake in a hunt of any kind, large or small, with others; tracking and killing small game for one’s self just wasn’t something he felt he could count as a legitimate hunt. However she may respond, he respected her reasoning anyways and tore into the rabbit, starting from the abdomen and working his way into the thorax. Although small, the skull was still harsh enough that he left it behind, along with any hide that was easily stripped of meat alone.
As her brows furrowed he realised the error in his words, the language lost on her. He offered an apologetic smile after the fact and silently reminded himself to be more mindful; as he aged, however, it was not as easy as it once was to keep the languages separated. Despite having been taught both at around the same time, Kove had spent his developmental years up north, surrounded by family members—some of which only knew the northern language, having never taken the time to learn the common tongue. Still, he would try. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well,” he commented, mind coming back into focus on the conversation at hand. “If there’s anything I can do to help, at any time, please let me know. I would like to do all that I can here. You and your children deserve at least that much.” He had a lot to make up for—and he wanted to be a part of the lives of his grandchildren.
The children were doing well, a comment that brought a wide, joyous smile to his face. Leta had endured so much in just a moment’s worth of time but, thankfully, she was still with them. “Something like that has a way of changing us, especially children,” he commented. “But she will grow from it, I am sure. It will be a thing of the past in no time.” He hoped. He hoped she would not carry it with her throughout her life, not when she had so much living ahead of her still. If anyone could help her through it, he was sure it would be Valette—she had all of her mother’s best qualities, after all. “It’s good you have someone to help you.” He wished he could have been the same figure all those years ago, back when it really mattered the most. But he was glad that the same fate that befell his own children would not carry over to his grandchildren. His grandchildren—
“They sound like they’re all coming into their own,” remarked the elder. They were all well, yet she still seemed concerned for young Clay. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that she worried for her son per se, only that the reasoning behind it was not something that he, personally, would be bothered by. “All children are different,” he said. “Sometimes their environment does not matter when it comes to how they behave. But I’m sure he will grow out of it.” And if he didn’t… well, Kove assumed that would be a bridge they’d cross if they came to it. His children were all gone now, many having either paid him no attention or having been taken from him before they could, but he’d been around pups enough to understand that they were all vastly different. Even those born from the same womb and raised alongside one another, under the very same conditions, could end up mirror opposites. That was just how children were—some acted as their parents believed they should, whereas others did not. He’d learned long ago that it was best to not try and change them one way or the other.
“I’m well,” he continued with, answering her query. “For the first time in years, I feel like I can breathe freely.” Every choice he made, every step he took—none of it was watched. No longer did the Inuk spend his life wondering what lurked in the shadows or who was lingering at his hocks, just waiting to knock him down and take over. The discord that he had spent so long living with was but a distant memory now, gradually being replaced by new, lighter experiences. Finally, he could say that he was happy. “But no, I did not hear about it,” was his response that followed. “Who was it?” Had he missed out on something? He could not recall having heard a summoning to defend the land, so he hoped it was not someone whose presence he should have met.
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Messages In This Thread
Every story has its scars - by RIP Valette - September 02, 2019, 05:18 AM
RE: Every story has its scars - by Kove - September 03, 2019, 01:37 AM
RE: Every story has its scars - by RIP Valette - September 03, 2019, 06:05 AM
RE: Every story has its scars - by Kove - October 11, 2019, 01:30 PM
RE: Every story has its scars - by RIP Valette - October 17, 2019, 01:30 PM
RE: Every story has its scars - by Kove - October 25, 2019, 10:43 PM
RE: Every story has its scars - by RIP Valette - October 28, 2019, 02:43 PM
RE: Every story has its scars - by Kove - November 20, 2019, 08:33 PM
RE: Every story has its scars - by RIP Valette - November 27, 2019, 09:10 AM
RE: Every story has its scars - by Kove - December 05, 2019, 12:31 AM
RE: Every story has its scars - by RIP Valette - December 07, 2019, 05:29 AM
RE: Every story has its scars - by Kove - January 24, 2020, 01:38 AM
RE: Every story has its scars - by RIP Valette - February 01, 2020, 12:49 PM
RE: Every story has its scars - by Kove - February 06, 2020, 01:10 AM
RE: Every story has its scars - by RIP Valette - February 09, 2020, 01:07 PM