Aside from his family and friends, there was one other wolf whom hurt him just as much as his wife did; his adopted mother Erani. He'd met the snowy woman when he'd still been under the rule of Isardis, and even then Erani had taken a liking to him. She had reminded him much of the mother he had left behind in his birth lands, which would explain why he had gravitated towards her so naturally. She had been there to support him during the beginning of his tortugan rule, but after that he never saw her again. He was lost to her and she to him during the siege, and well after when his maiming happened, along with the birth of his children. He sought to find his wife and make amends, but before he saw the golden woman, he needs to reconnect with his mother. Had she forgotten about him? Did she loathe him? Harbor resentment towards him because he had essentially disappeared? He wasn't sure how much hatred he could stand for all those he held dear to his heart, even if they no longer felt the same.
He no longer knew if Valhalla stood, or even if his adopted sister Chrysanthe ruled as its queen. Did the pack still reside in the same area? He could only speculate and it was this speculation that drove him to the place where he believed the Valhallans to reside. He had no way of knowing if he was right or wrong, but it was worth a try. Besides, it wasn't like he was in a hurry; he had all the time in the world to find everyone he was looking for. That is, if they wanted to be found. Charcoal dipped limbs would pull the titan along, skull hanging between his shoulders, parallel to the ground, scared nostrils testing the air. It had been quite some time since he had seen his mother, but he still remembered her scent as if he'd just met her for the first time. He'd caught it not too far back and had been tracking it as best he could. It was getting stronger, but so was the knot in his throat. Would she receive him?
The sound of trickling water told Taurig he'd found his way to a source of water. Just what kind of source he could only guess. Not that it really mattered to him, not when his mother was the one he was interested in. Her scent was strongest here and he could only assume that was close by. Massive frame was brought to a lumbering halt, crown held low to the ground, audits flat against his crown, sightless eyes looking in the direction he thought his mother to be. Would she chase him away from the Valhallans for fear of being seen with an unworthy man? Did she even recognize him as her son anymore? The familiar tightening of his throat strengthened and he knew it was only a matter of time before he came his own water source. What a way to grovel for forgiveness.
"Speech"
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