Where the line is drawn

Thorn looked up as he spotted his dark-colored aunt coming towards him.  He offered her a half-hearted smile, nodding at her question.  “Hi, aunty Gwyn.” He glanced from her and back to his attempts on the paper. “Trying to, but I can’t make anything look right.”

His head turned to watch her as she picked up the charcoal.  His eyes were intent on how she held it in her paw.  It didn’t take long before her art started to take shape.  He could tell what she was making! Thorn had been trying to do long lines that had always skittered off but Gwyn was doing short strokes and that seemed to help her keep control of it.  At least Thorn imagined that was why she did short strokes.

“Hey, you’re really good!” The compliment is certainly sincere in its excitement.  The boy used both paws to grab the charcoal, carefully trying to hold it in one paw the way Gwyn had done.  It took some fumbling so he answered while struggling on the charcoal, “well, I want to make maps but if I can’t do basic lines or some way to mark what an object it is, then it’s a pretty worthless map.”  The charcoal was slippery on his smaller paw but Thorn decided it could work.  This was something that would be easier when he grew bigger.

Thorn used his free paw as a brace, the other paw gripping the charcoal as best as possible.  He imitated Gwyn, not making small marks at a time instead of one long line. “I’m gonna learn to make great maps.  Then I’ll travel all over to make lots and lots of maps.” Not all the lines connected as they should but trying to imitate Gwyn's drawing, he could at least tell this time it was an attempt at a flower, shaky as it was.  It was progress, and even if not perfect it was a big improvement in his mind.  “That’s better but, yours is a lot better still.”

"Thorn Carpathius"