Generational Trauma

The boy was overcome by instinctual fear, the looming threat of Sephiran intertwined with an angered enemy pushing Xairo over the edge. But even with his heightened senses and overwhelming fear, he morphed into a fury of teeth and claws, tapping into his survival instincts which told him to fight or flee. And fight he would. Sephiran’s brow arched as he watched the battle between his son and the badger ensue, snarls and battle cries filling the small clearing. Xairo landed a good bite on the creature, but it wasn’t enough to chase it off. Claws raked against his flank, breaking skin and drawing blood. It looked like the badger was getting the upper hand, maneuvering its agile body and utilizing its experience to try and pin the boy down.

And if the badger succeeded in wrestling him to the ground, if it grabbed him by the throat and extinguished his life, Sephiran would not intervene. If he couldn’t fight off a badger, he was better off dead. Like his m o t h e r.

"Speech"