04-13-2026, 06:34 PM
I think my father loved my mother.
He thinks I don’t notice when he flies away at night, a snowy white owl drifting across a starlit heaven on a cool breeze; when he returns, I pretend to stir—as if I haven’t been waiting. I tuck my body close to his and sigh, comforted by his warmth while he shivers at first against my chill. He grows a thick, woolly coat, then sprouts raven wings and shelters me under his right wing.
Nikolas, my father, has never stopped looking for my mother.
I don’t think he ever will.
Sometimes I wonder if he blames me.
Other times, I know that simply isn’t true.
He loves me as much as I think he loved her.
She had been confused when I was born.
For whatever reason, when I arrived, I didn’t move or make noise—I was stiff, cold to the touch, and in her anguish she simply… vanished.
Nereza, my mother, had very strange powers.
My father thinks it was her undoing.
He has been taking care of me ever since.
In his own way.
Sometimes we’re horses, other times we are birds; once, he had taught me how to shift into a wolf, and I had waited nearby and watched while he hunted down a doe for us to eat.
“Vegetation isn’t always available,” my father had explained afterwards when our bellies were so swollen that my tummy hurt, bloody from his face down to his chest and legs. “When it isn’t, we hunt.”
“We survive by any means necessary.”
I amble along aimlessly, my skunk-colored tail flicking to ward off the flies. I keep my head high, my ears twitching and swiveling towards whatever sound comes my way. For the most part, it’s just the wind and I sigh when what sounds like a wailing banshee is just a gust forcing its way between two large stones.
I’m not sure where my father is, exactly. I know he isn’t far, he never is, but I appreciate the fact he has decided to let me explore a bit on my own even if the land is… well, dead and barren, for lack of better words. He hadn’t wanted to take me to the Forest or the River, explaining that there were too many others present, and I sigh loudly at the memory.
He thinks I don’t notice when he flies away at night, a snowy white owl drifting across a starlit heaven on a cool breeze; when he returns, I pretend to stir—as if I haven’t been waiting. I tuck my body close to his and sigh, comforted by his warmth while he shivers at first against my chill. He grows a thick, woolly coat, then sprouts raven wings and shelters me under his right wing.
Nikolas, my father, has never stopped looking for my mother.
I don’t think he ever will.
Sometimes I wonder if he blames me.
Other times, I know that simply isn’t true.
He loves me as much as I think he loved her.
She had been confused when I was born.
For whatever reason, when I arrived, I didn’t move or make noise—I was stiff, cold to the touch, and in her anguish she simply… vanished.
Nereza, my mother, had very strange powers.
My father thinks it was her undoing.
He has been taking care of me ever since.
In his own way.
Sometimes we’re horses, other times we are birds; once, he had taught me how to shift into a wolf, and I had waited nearby and watched while he hunted down a doe for us to eat.
“Vegetation isn’t always available,” my father had explained afterwards when our bellies were so swollen that my tummy hurt, bloody from his face down to his chest and legs. “When it isn’t, we hunt.”
“We survive by any means necessary.”
I amble along aimlessly, my skunk-colored tail flicking to ward off the flies. I keep my head high, my ears twitching and swiveling towards whatever sound comes my way. For the most part, it’s just the wind and I sigh when what sounds like a wailing banshee is just a gust forcing its way between two large stones.
I’m not sure where my father is, exactly. I know he isn’t far, he never is, but I appreciate the fact he has decided to let me explore a bit on my own even if the land is… well, dead and barren, for lack of better words. He hadn’t wanted to take me to the Forest or the River, explaining that there were too many others present, and I sigh loudly at the memory.