Stone Circle Dearly

The world of rain and wind filters away to the pierce of that hollow voice, a cry only attuned to the ears of a mother. She closes the steps between them, whisking the cub to her belly with insistent arms and a sawing guilt.

“Oh Katla!” the murmurs attempt now to soothe, backtracking, “the rain cannot hurt you, see?” She holds out a paw beneath the harmless trickling but the waver of regret rattles her limbs.

What kind of mother was she, to scare her daughter? Was she so desperate for play or some semblance of normalcy that she’d forgotten the scale of Katla’s world in these early weeks?

“I’m so sorry to have scared you,” and the caressing snout to that small round cheek sought to wreathe her in protection against her fears.