Loneliness burns

His mother was gone. He hadn't wanted to believe it, but since she hadn't come to the most recent pack meeting, nor had she shown up afterwards... he had to start to accept it as truth. The only problem was, he really didn't know how to live without her. She'd been there for him through everything, even when he'd been too weak to practically do much of anything after the volcano's eruption. She'd been his constant, his strength - and without her he couldn't help but feel painfully small. He could barely even talk to his own family, let alone really benefit Abaven in any capacity. He knew a few measly things about healing, and that was practically it. Spirit wasn't even sure why they kept him around. He'd been trying desperately to be optimistic, to remind himself that he was learning and getting better, but... he wondered if it'd take him his whole life to ever begin to contribute. The thought was a painful one, and without his mother there to bolster him up he felt like curling into a ball and hoping he'd never have to face the world again.

That was precisely what he wanted to do now, and it was hard to will himself to do otherwise. Especially when he felt the burning tears prickling at his eyes. He didn't want anyone to see him like this and be reminded of just how weak and sad he was - that thought hurt even worse than anything - so for now he tried to find a spot in the thickest patch of grass he could find, flattening it down and curling up quietly. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day, he thought somberly, briefly raising his head to watch the colors begin to fade from the sky as the sun began its rapid descent below the horizon. He was certain that it couldn't possibly be any worse than today.