Rhythm was a petite wolf, and not a fighter but she had always been strong. Well Motif would always protect her body, Rhythm had, right from the start, always protected Motif's heart and soul. It was shocking to see her like this, looking broken and uncertain and Motif would do anything to make the despair in her sisters eyes go away. She wished it had been a physical danger threatening her sister, something she could satisfyingly sink her fangs into. Instead, the girl stood helplessly at her sisters side, whispering in her ear, holding her close and promising that everything would be alright.
Holding her so close, she could feel the girls uneven heart beat, feel the breaths that shook her as she struggling to bring them under control, to breath. When Rhythm finally controlled her enough to speak, the words where a physical shock to Motif, that she could feel right to her core. your son she had said, her tiny, helpless little boys, that had not survived their births. Motif dealt with that sorrow by pushing it from memory, blocking it out as through she could pretend it didn't exist, had never happened. sons? her mind said what sons? but her heart ached, ached so hard until she couldn't drown out the memories any more.
The girls head collapsed over her sisters body as her own breathing came erratically from her body. “Shh, its not your fault Rhythm, it's not your fault, it was never your fault” she soothed, the words hoarse through her suddenly sore throat. No, the fault had been Motif's, never sweet, giving Rhythm.
Now Motif thought she understood what was plaguing her sister, she had at the moment of their birth blamed herself, but had spoken no more about it after Motif and Bass both had shot that idea down, telling her it had not been. Clearly it had not gone away, only been kept inwards.
"Speech"
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