Hushed Willows namárië!

"She whelped my brood," the woman speaks in a voice so soft and featherlight that the wind itself could have carried it off before it ever reached his ears, which fell back.  She did know his mothers, and it was both a comfort and a curse.  

His eyes fell upon the wounds on her face — had Olive and Seabreeze taken care of those, too?  If they hadn't, would their tender care and knowledge had saved her from such disfigurement?  It would have been rude to wonder out loud, but the boy knew that of all the places in the world that were safe, his own thoughts must be the safest.

Though he towered over her, his tail was tucked slightly and his body was crouched to her level as he drew close, ignoring common sense and personal boundaries to embrace the woman in a sorrow-filled hug.  Their memory lives in the life of you, and of your children.  He might've held his tongue on the comment had he known her history, but for now he had no reason to believe that any mother-and-child relationship would be different than the one he shared — had shared — with his own.