Hoshor Plains on the forefinger of an alderman

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There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

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Little did the mother know that Moath was a starved creature who had grown up the way he had because he hadn’t been taughts how to properly harness nor vocalize his emotions. That might have been one of the steps to edge him further from the ruined shadows he had been in for so long - but he had grown up in the dark for so long, that seemingly even love had no change on the older brute. His Mother was a good woman though. It was not her fault that Moath was disabled, mentally. 

Or was it? 

After she had nearly hugged him, his deadpan dark gaze on the petite woman as she expressed her love for him, she had inquired of the Family. A nod sealed his meet with the Son, and he pointed a scarred muzzle to where the rest of the Melonii were residing, or rather where the graceless male was told they would be. 

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And in silence, he waited.

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