Redhawk Caldera When lightning crashes the sunrise

He felt her touch his wrist. Atreus let go of his own face, letting his paws drift back to the ground. He still couldn’t bring himself to look right at her, though he tilted his head and listened. Amalia reassured him that acknowledging his inability to cope with Inkeri’s trauma was in fact a mark of maturity. It didn’t feel that way but he didn’t argue.

He didn’t say anything at all for a little while. Atreus didn’t feel entirely in control of himself, so he focused on harnessing his feelings before they manifested somehow. He replayed Amalia’s words back in his mind, fully absorbing what she’d said.

I guess, he eventually said, followed by a huge sigh.

The way Amalia’s paw brushed over his head made him think of all the touches he’d shared with Inkeri in those precious few days they’d enjoyed together. There was something much more maternal about Amalia’s touches by comparison, though as he finally brought his eyes up to her face, he wondered if she might actually be the same age as Ink.