Northstar Vale Mátia

The child lifted his head and breathed in the rush of air that fell on him. A squeak sounded from his mouth as he scooted closer to his mother. Her words did not make sense to him. They were sounds from a foreign place, though he understood that there was familiarity in them. A strange sensation in his stomach told him that he did not want to be touched, did not want to feel the pressure of another against him.

Antigone squeaked again and his stubby legs churned until he had placed a small distance between himself and Tamar. From there, the boy turned his sights to her and gazed in awe. He could not appreciate it in his youth, but his mother was beautiful – radiant in her show of love. Perhaps the touch of a loved one was acceptable. Antigone inched toward her, the makings of a hunter clear in his determination.