Moonspear fireflies downright

He didn’t know if he was close, in all fairness; his mother said a lot of things that made sense to him, but at the same time his own impatience had overridden the logic. He knew he had to be able to fend for himself and he thought that he could—truth was, he could, but only within a certain capacity. Still reliant on those around him for some guidance and care, but still learning the ways of the world enough to be fully fledged.

But soon he would be able to do those things, even if he didn’t know it.

“Oh,” he rejoined to her comment. His face creased with consideration, still wondering. She had shared a very powerful snippet with him in her even tone, possessing a patience that was far greater than his own. His father would have waved him away at this point, knowing all to well that the breadcrumbs she had thrown out to him would only spark more questions.

“Why’d they… discard you? Seems pretty dumb if you ask me,” he commented, “you’re always doing good things, right? Protecting the borders and stuff, like my brothers and parents do. Or like my Uncle Jarilo.” It made her important, gave her purpose—all things that he had slowly aspired to for all his young worth could amass. Clearly even if she didn’t smile, it was their loss and Moonspear’s gain.