<style type="text/css">.larus {margin:auto; width:500px; text-align:justify;font-size:11px; font-family: 'Tienne', serif; color: #231d11;} .larus q {color:#9898a0; font-family: Georgia; font-size:12px; font-weight:bold;} .larus p {margin:0px;text-indent:20px;}</style>
He saw it, briefly, and it was indeed enough to convince him of the truth in her words. It looked so much like his own wounds, his missing fur which had grown like heavy peach-fuzz. The power behind her words served to sooth him, for the most part. Larus needed more than just words though. He needed physical contact, he needed his mother - even if she did not want him.
Without thinking beyond this, the boy lurched towards Caiaphas and sank in to the crook beside her, his head and shoulders slipping behind her front limbs - and with a nudge of his nose, he squished his face between her forelimbs so that his head could touch her chest. The boy's growth spurt had not started in earnest so he was still small enough to fit there - but the bulk of his shoulders and rotund belly squished against Caiaphas. He wanted to be close, and gathered the comfort he needed along with the heat she produced.
Ignoring any discomfort he was causing (mostly because he didn't think very far past his own desires), the next instant had Larus' tears coming to a stop. The wetness of his cheeks was dried by the dark woman's nearby limbs. Another thought then occurred to him, and he was unafraid to voice it: If dis is my home... Are you my... My mom now?
It wasn't until he tried to squeak past the word mom that the boy's voice faltered. His mother was everything to him - and now he was giving her up, in a way.