Redsand Canyon vultus

She wasn’t as gentle as she could have been but she was not harsh. She simply did not trust that he would stay for long, even if the fight seemed to leave him for the moment. Most importantly, she was thorough.

When a majority of the supplies were chewed she pressed them in place, holding them firmly. Blood still seeped but between the poultice, saliva, and pressure it would soon stem once more.

He wasn’t speaking. She would.

My son left me to join you. This makes me a failure of a mother, in your eyes. Her voice was now deceptively calm, only a tremor of tension beneath, like a coiled spring. He had turned her patience to a hair trigger.

My husband left me. This makes me a failure of a wife. And the ones who followed him made me a failure of a leader too. Because somehow, you seem to think I have to accept their failures as my own. Their choices aren’t mine.

And here you are, basing everything on the ones who left, completely ignoring every one of us who continue to fucking stand here. What are we worth?

She could feel the tears, born more from anger than anything else, despite not wanting to give the satisfaction of them. As if anything he thinks of this matters. She continued to hold the pressure, grateful for something physical to focus on.