Northstar Vale Misó

Set shortly after the thread with Meadow.

Sorcha would be waiting for him. He was forced to remind himself as he crossed the border and entered his home.

Reyson’s scent was faded from the borders. Antigone wondered if he had been banished for his crimes, which consisted of nothing more than existing in his scarred body. It would delight him to know that the soldier had been removed. It would tickle him in ways that made him feel shameful.

Antigone had meant what he’d said to Meadow. He hoped that Reyson died. He hoped that his death was brutal and vicious and slow. He hoped that there were no herbs on the planet that would heal him. This mental image carried him through the vale and to his mother’s den.

@Tamar’s scent was strong. Antigone held his breath outside of his parents home.

Mom, we need to talk.

birth was imminent.

tamar breathed; inhaled; shut her eyes as the contractions started. this early they were not painful, and could last for days.

but she knew it would be soon.

antigone; tamar opened her eyes and moved quickly. "beta," she whispered in a language her children rarely heard, those words reserved for her now.

she studied him, reached out to him. "talk to me, antigone."

She appeared as a rotund and glowing goddess. Her sides swollen with the unborn pups she carried. 

Antigone would not be there to see them born. He would not know that she delivered them safely. The boy had to assume that Meadow would serve his mother, when that time came. 

There was no anger on her voice. It curbed his determination. The young wolf watched her with sadness in his navy stare. Three days. Sorcha would be waiting for him and he could not make himself into a liar. This must be done. Antigone could not watch Meadow be courted by the beast of Epoch. He couldn’t suffer through such hideous claims of love. 

I am leaving. I met someone. We will go together. Away from here, away from Reyson, he told her, voice dripping with venom on the soldier’s name. I have come to tell you… goodbye. Pain beat with his heart.

goodbye?

pain raced across her face. the babes kicked within. she had so wanted him here to see their birth, to know their first breaths.

a contraction started as did her moistening eyes.

tamar wanted to tell him that reyson was gone. but the man would return. this was his home.

and in this moment she chose to let antigone go, unknowing of how hatefully he had spoken to meadow. but her boy, her first son; his anger had outgrown epoch.

"only me?" she asked in roughened tones, arms aching to hold him as she had when he was an infant. your sisters?

tamar knew he would not seek arsenio.

How was he to answer that?

Antigone blinked at his mother and shook his head.

I’m afraid if I see Zulema and Zosime-

The boy could feel tears threaten to spring to his eyes. He did not want to cry before his mom. He did not want to look like the child he was. This decision had come out of necessity. If he stayed in Epoch and he faced Reyson and Meadow, he knew that it would lead to violence. He thought of the mark on his father’s snout and felt shame for that action, for the first time.

Tell them I love them. When I find a place for myself, I will come… near. To see them. To see you.

She was right in knowing that he did not want to bid his father farewell. Arsenio would try to talk down to him. He would say that Antigone didn’t know what he was doing and that he was being bold and foolish. He would offer some rationale to his son’s actions – young boys experience strong emotions. The red-hooded child could almost hear him.

She loves him, he was forced to look away from Tamar. The tears stung his eyes.

And I don’t want to hurt anyone else. Plus, I made a promise to Sorcha.

… we try to keep our promises and we try to mend what we have wronged, Meadow’s words burned in his mind.

sorcha.

tamar's mouth moved to ask who this was but she found she could not.

antigone was leaving. antigone; her boy. her baby. he would not stay among them. worry and loss cut through tamar. she wanted to command, to demand. to forbid.

her throat clenched; she nodded silently at antigone's request, feeling backward in her inability to argue with him. he was not happy in epoch. how could she force him to stay?

she could not and would not. 

"i love you, antigone," tamar said in a voice that felt as if it might waver away. she reached her arms for him; please.

I love you, too.

Antigone’s voice was flat. He was not certain that he understood love. The boy wasn’t even sure if he had felt the pull of it or if it had all been anger. Gazing at the hurt in his mother’s eyes, he wondered if it was not the latter. She would never know the satisfaction that had coiled like a python in her son’s belly, just after he had sliced his father’s nose open.

Anger was the part of Antigone that loved him the most. And it had made him aware that it was time to leave.

The boy stepped to his mother and offered a kiss on her cheek. His eyes did not meet her face when he pulled back. The hurt there would be too much for him and he wished to hold his head high. This choice had to be made for the better of everyone. Antigone was only healing what had been harmed. The thought carried him out of Epoch and into the wild.

tamar watched him go.

her body was stiff.

her heart was empty.

a breeze drew her tears in jagged angles across her cheeks.

tamar would not remember how she stumbled back to her husband and their den, how she formed the words to speak antigone's departure.

the failure of motherhood, twisting into her breast.