Through the Fire and the Flame we Carry On

The soft sigh didn't bode well. A sign that he was still very much distressed. That was valid, in Epitaph's eyes. He'd been through much, and sometimes it was difficult to let go of trauma. ”It’s hard, not being able to watch him grow up.” The words were accompanied by the tender brushing of a massive, pale paw across the overturned soil. It had hardened with the frost long ago, but a few loose grains of soil tumbled away with the motion. The dark wisp hummed softly in agreement. Yes, he'd seen pups die. No one ever truly recovered from it.

"Someday, it might be.." he hesitated. Did Rhyme really care what he thought? A battered and torn slave, with no children of his own. What did he know? He fought against the clenching in his throat, instinctively silencing him for fear of retaliation. "easier. To carry the burden." he finished the sentence softly, gaze distant. The weight of his own suffering was still suffocating, crushing him slowly under its bulk. It was less than when he had still been with the clan, than when he had first turned up at Abaven- starved and half dead. "It doesn't do well to dwell on the past, it'll swallow you whole." he added with a soft frown, torn muzzle twisting into a grimace only briefly. Yes, it had nearly swallowed him.

"You have many children who need your love," he offered. "I'm sure this little one would want you to impart all that you've reserved for him onto the others instead."