Stone Circle witch-hazel

Symbolization of the title flower · A magic spell

If I were bigger, I could have done more for Faðir.

It pained Kristjan to think that he simply hadn’t been old enough to care properly for his fading father. He wondered how much longer the old wolf would have survived if his son could only provide; provide food, medicine, comfort, protection, and stability. If Gunnar hadn’t still had all those responsibilities, if he’d just had one more grown-up to help him heal, if Kristjan had been able to take over for him, if, if, if…

The boy made to swallow what felt like a large pebble in his throat. But it remained lodged there, straining his breaths as he crouched shrinkingly before the massive headstone that loomed over his father’s grave. The wind blew ominously through his coat, and the scent of rain laid heavy on the afternoon air. He looked to his left, then to his right, then stood up and put his forepaws on the patriarch stone. His mis-matched eyes gave a pleading look up to the impassive rock face.

Please… please, Patriarch Stone, he whimpered quietly, he begged. If you give him back, I’ll- I promise to be a very good son. I’ll take care of him this time, and- and I will never leave him. His legs trembled as no answer came. Please! I’ll do anything you want, I swear. He pressed his paws harder into the stone, hoping to shake it, perhaps even topple it, but nothing gave. The patriarch was as immovable as it was silent.

Battling back a sob, Kristjan placed his cheek upon the stone. Please, give him back to us.

Stage three: bargaining.