Break the Mould

Trotting through the moor with his attention seemingly unfocused, but intent on his goal, he was heading back to the den his mother had dug for the family when she'd discovered she'd been pregnant with them. They'd begun to drift apart even before their mother had died, and until she'd gotten so sick he'd considered moving out into his own den to have space of his own. But after, and especially after she'd died, he'd abandoned that idea entirely. What siblings were willing to remain - and there were enough dens within the complex of tunnels they'd once played in as children for all of them to have room to feel comfortable and private - he was obsessed with the idea of gathering them close to him to protect them. It was evening, and he was returning to the den from his sentry duty on the wall with a hare dangling from his jaws to contribute to dinner for whoever might be there. He hadn't had the best of luck on such a short hunt, though, and he'd been letting his focus wander in the hopes of spotting something to add to the metaphorical pot when he suddenly found himself in the stone circle.

He froze with one paw still raised and his face emotionless, though his icy eyes lingered on the still-soft dirt mounded over the grave they'd dug all those weeks ago. He'd avoided this place as much as possible, mostly without conscious thought, and had been successful enough that he could count only once since the day they'd dug the grave that he'd been here.

Now, he could hardly leave now without it being obvious that he was fleeing, but nor could he just stand there like a pointer either. He carefully, with great dignity, lowered his paw to stand squarely, setting the hare at his forepaws and lifting his head back up to stand there with as much grandeur as a sharp-boned yearling with legs too long and gangly for his youthful build could possibly muster.

"Mom," he said in the safety of his own mind. "Why? Why did you leave us? You could have kept fighting, just a little longer. Long enough for me to get my paws under me, so you could have taught me what I need to know to lift our family up again. Without you I feel..." A thousand thoughts ran through his head as he tried to give words to how he felt. Lost? Alone? Afraid? "I can't fail now. I can't make mistakes. I can't let anyone hold us back. We don't have you to pick us up and lick our wounds when we fall anymore." He closed his eyes, wondering, hoping, that there would be some... feeling, like his mother was there. Some smell, some sound, some touch... but that deep childish belief was dashed. His mother was gone. There was nothing left of her except the remains buried some feet away, and her children, and the mark she had left on the Adravendi heritage. It was up to him to make certain that she lived on through them, and that he cleaned the tarnish from the Adravendi name so that her legacy could shine brightly and unimpeded by the mistakes of past Adravendi scions.

He breathed out a sigh and bent his head again towards the hare, only to freeze again with his ears pricked in wary attention as a faint sound alerted him to someone nearby.