I know what I'm without

He wasn't surprised when Balthier stepped back from him. He had expected it and hadn't expected him to come forward to try and embrace him or anything of the sort, yet somehow that distance still felt like a stab in his chest. A sad smile pulled across his lips and he settled back on his haunches. There was nothing that could be done. There was no going back, no changing his mind. Fate had mate that choice for him and made his decision more permanent than he had ever imagined. He supposed that he should be grateful that he got this small chance to tell his son the truth and tell him that he was truly gone, but he wasn't. His life was full of regrets, one stacking on top of the other. Hearing the soft voice of his son questioning him squeezed at his chest and he wished that he could take it all back.

"I'm gone, son. I'm dead," he replied after a moment, unable to find a way to sugar coat the truth. He waited for a moment, letting that sink in and giving him a sympathetic look. He wished he didn't have to find out this way. He almost wished he didn't have to find out at all. "After I left you I started heading south to find my mother's family again. I did find their pack... but it had changed. I didn't learn this about them last time I stayed with them, but... Part of their religion is that all wolves that have white coats or are mostly white are considered cursed and have to be killed. I guess this got around or maybe one of the wolves they tried to kill escaped and they revolted, killing everyone that had been part of that pack. When I approached the territory they assumed I had been part of them and..." He fell silent, unable to finish the statement. He had been killed on sight, not given a moment to defend himself or explain how he hadn't been with those wolves or followed their beliefs.

Walk | "Talk" | think