Dragoncrest Cliffs near-sighted

Her conviction dissipated when her son begged her for a song. She knew the words would not come, could feel the trembling dial in her head that could not settle on how to move her tongue, her lips. Her whiskers quivered and her lips parted, but became suddenly dry.

She felt hot beneath Sobeille’s gaze. With her ability to speak lost, she could not sing to her son; nor could she properly recount what had taken place at the pack hunt. Words, ideas, feelings and thoughts pressed against the wall of a dam, one that could weather their weight.

All she could do was hum the soft melody of a tune she knew her son would remember. She canted an ear toward Svalinn, eyes widening as he explained what had happened to Jean-Heron. Her chin atop his brow, she tilted her head slightly to look toward the weather-worn father.

To him, she gave a slow blink; an acceptance of his disappearance.