His mother had been out of sorts as of late. Initially Aslan had feared that perhaps she was getting ill now too, though she didn't separate herself from the family in the way that their father had done and so it seemed that it wasn't the case. Death wasn't something he understood yet, and as his grandparents had spent half of his life cooped up in a den to avoid spreading their illness, he certainly couldn't grasp the fact that he wasn't actually going to see them again.
His mother would call now, the same sadness that consumed her lately evident in her voice and the troubled boy would make his way to the gathering, concerned for his mother and still rather confused about all that was happening. Silently he'd join the group, moving to his sister's side and sitting beside her.
