Tapping the Barrel of a Steel Blue .38
09-30-2014, 09:28 PM
Embraced by his mother, he would hang on her every word. Fear and panic began to take over as she told them to take of each other and that she would always be there. A name fell from her lips. Maverick. He finally had a name to give his father, but still no face to go with it. But none of it mattered. She would speak of her love with her final breath before she went still. His vision would blur with tears, his throat tightening. Eyes would clench shut as he pressed himself harder against his dead mother. He would flinch as his brother began to wail, his voice echoing off the confines of the den. Curling in on himself, he didn't move as his uncle spoke, nor as his apparent grandfather nudged him. He acknowledged no one, taking a moment wallow in self pity and grief. He had been gone. He wasn't around to take care of his mother, to ensure that he was safe and well. This was his fault. If he had been around then he would have been able to take care of his mother, she wouldn't be sick. His sides would shake with silent sobs as he buried his face in his mothers fur. Nothing would disturb him even as his uncle and grandfather left the den. He would finally register that he did indeed need to bury his mother. His gaze would lift to his brother. Amarants body quivered as he sobbed, bury his own face into their mothers coat. Rising on unsteady limbs, he would lean forward in an attempt to nudge his brother gently. His russet cheeks were wet with tears, and his legs trembled, threatening to give away beneath him. "Ammy." His voice was a hoarse whisper, spoken only loud enough that his brother might hear. Speech, |
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