What I Wouldn't Do

Many of Epiphron's worries had been assuaged by the reunion of herself and her children. A strange sense of calm settled over her, burrowing its way deep into her soul, calming the slight rage and unrest that had settled there for so long now. A peace had washed over her, softening her as the ocean might wear down a stone. Her paws would carry her quietly through the thicket, the sound of her movement little more than a gentle rustling of foliage underfoot.


The scent of her son was familiar, and entirely unmistakable. Despite the warmth that resonated from her other children, Caeto had seemed cold and even a bit angry at his mother's presence. What ailed him, she was not sure -- but it would not deter her from wanting to see him again, to feel her son's warmth and to keep his company as long as possible.


His call came suddenly, a sound unburdened and free, so different from his demeanor at their last meeting. Though her interest had already been picqued, she felt a slight warmth spreading through her chest at his call. The sound reminded her so much of him as a child and a painful nostalgia washed over her. With little hesitation she could redirect her movements, heading toward him. The distance was short, and her heart lifted as she saw her son.


How did he want her to react? Already she had apologized for her disappearance, for failing her children as a mother. She had explained that brashness and the thirsty for revenge had led her to make mistakes that she regretted -- but he hadn't seemed affected by any of it. A wary eye would be cast upon her son as she approached, moving as though to embrace him but hesitating as she anticipated his reaction. "Caeto," she started, voice quivering slightly, warmth audible in her tones.