your heart is a muscle the size of your fist
Tox
Sure enough, his mother settled down beside him on her haunches. Without thinking too much on propriety, the young boy rolled on his hip so he could recline with his shoulder leaning against one of her thighs. He drew comfort from his mother's presence, grounded himself with the sound of her breathing just at the edge of his awareness. "Some say God designs the skies just as he did each of our pelts," she commented softly, as they sat and gazed up at the stars. He hummed softly, the sound rising ever so slightly on the last note to indicate his curiosity though he didn't say anything outright. Two toned gaze drifted towards her features, and he found himself tracing the familiar contours of her face in the pale, dim light. "I didn't fully understand, but looking at all of you, I wonder if perhaps he used the same materials as the sky on your furs just to show me what they meant." she added, though her attention did not waver as his own had from the sky. "Especially with Faith." he said softly, the edges of his maw turning up with amusement. He paused, the toes of his forepaws flexing for a moment as he thought. All of his sisters were so unique, and he supposed he wasn't a plain looking wolf either. As the weather had warmed, and he had grown, he'd watched the other youngsters flourish in their roles, while he seemed to flounder in obscurity. "Have you ever wondered if God has a plan for us? I feel like He hasn't given me as much direction as you, mother. Maybe I'm doing something wrong." he said softly, and then worried if he ought to have said anything at all. He didn't want to seem like he was questioning God, or his divine heritage. The boy was worried that he was cursed to wander the shadows, directionless and lost. "speech" |
