Dragoncrest Cliffs near-sighted

It was not the man who called that she spotted first, but her sky--and-cloud boy, his harlequin mask unmistakable from any distance. She uttered a soft bouf! of surprise, ears tilted forward and fur lifted at the sight of him, before she bolted forward to course across the cold earth and close the distance. Her son hobbled, his lips bouncing with the effort it took for him to go without the use of his right hind.

Tears were no sign of weakness; she took pride in being the mother of boys who would always run to their mother, fall into her embrace, and sob against her shoulder. She embraced him as she had her other sons, prepared to take their weight into her arms, to marvel at their growth, feel anger and sadness burn within her to see even one hair out of place. The mark of hard times was upon Jean-Heron, whose whimpers were soft and hoarse. She breathed in his scent, grateful for his return, savouring it knowing that he would likely be wont to wander again someday, and that his tears might have nowhere to fall until he came home again.

If it meant that she might one day become an ocean herself, for all the tears that landed upon her shoulder, she would happily let the teardrops gather; she would be a loving and vengeful sea.

She wished she had words she could speak to him, but she let her wandering gaze ask questions, her pained smile expressed all the love she could muster.

Sobeille, at the moment, would go ignored, save for one ear that flicked back at the sight of the girl watching with a scrupulous gaze.