The creature, the likes of which Caw has never seen before, comes crawling towards her. He is careful, timid, offering up apologies quicker than she can refuse them and flops over on his side in a bid to submit; she recognizes his body language, noting its similarities to some of the larger beasts and is almost quick to dismiss him... yet.
She thinks of her own children, fondly remembering their own innocent curiosity. This thing is young, still. A child face to face with something he doesn’t know could gobble him up. Just like Quiet. It strikes such a chord in her that she nearly starts to tremble. There had been blood, so much blood. She had screamed until her voice no longer worked. Even in darkness, even with the crows doing with her and the other children as they willed, she had never felt such pain before in her life and it’s something she wishes no mother would ever have to feel again.
“Look at me,” Caw demands, stern and unwavering, the voice of a mother whose righteous anger has turned into cold understanding and though she is tired she now wants to teach him a lesson. There is no tremble in her voice, though she pauses long enough to swallow, forcing her throat to stop feeling as though it is trying to constrict itself. “Never expose yourself like this,” she motions to him, snorting indignantly at his exposed belly.
“What if I wanted to crush you? Smash your little skull?” Caw’s yellow-gold eyes narrow, her lips curling back in a sneer, revealing her pretty white fangs—which, though it may seem like a trick of the light, grow rapidly and sharpen before his very own eyes. “How do you think your mother would feel if you never came home?”
She knows exactly how she should feel, at least.
“My name is Caw,” the black mare tells him, her teeth returning to ‘normal.’ Blunt and horse-like, just the way her neighbors prefer them to be. “I’d like to see you stay alive, boy, so I want to know what is your name?”
A voice, fortunately for the little dog, draws her attention away.
There is something about his face that causes her to freeze, something familiar about the twists and turns of the metal marbling of his coat that breaks her heart and makes her day all at once. But no. It can’t possibly be. That had been a girl, she remembers. A girl born in the wake of Quiet’s death. Just as beautiful and marbled like her elder sister. They’d given her away, did what they thought was the right thing. Kept her safe, because safety was far from them and the ruin their families bring.
Caw shakes her head.
“Might as well join, make it a party,” she insists, studying the stallion carefully—his eyes.
Even his eyes….
“Risk,” she tests the name, though it sparks no memories and she doesn’t recall having heard it before. They never even gave the girl a name. It could be a child of hers, perhaps. Though she isn’t sure how old their daughter might be or even if her children would be this old by now. They’d been in mourning for so, so long that time had seemingly slipped right on by and forgot to bring them along. “I am Caw.”
She thinks of her own children, fondly remembering their own innocent curiosity. This thing is young, still. A child face to face with something he doesn’t know could gobble him up. Just like Quiet. It strikes such a chord in her that she nearly starts to tremble. There had been blood, so much blood. She had screamed until her voice no longer worked. Even in darkness, even with the crows doing with her and the other children as they willed, she had never felt such pain before in her life and it’s something she wishes no mother would ever have to feel again.
“Look at me,” Caw demands, stern and unwavering, the voice of a mother whose righteous anger has turned into cold understanding and though she is tired she now wants to teach him a lesson. There is no tremble in her voice, though she pauses long enough to swallow, forcing her throat to stop feeling as though it is trying to constrict itself. “Never expose yourself like this,” she motions to him, snorting indignantly at his exposed belly.
“What if I wanted to crush you? Smash your little skull?” Caw’s yellow-gold eyes narrow, her lips curling back in a sneer, revealing her pretty white fangs—which, though it may seem like a trick of the light, grow rapidly and sharpen before his very own eyes. “How do you think your mother would feel if you never came home?”
She knows exactly how she should feel, at least.
“My name is Caw,” the black mare tells him, her teeth returning to ‘normal.’ Blunt and horse-like, just the way her neighbors prefer them to be. “I’d like to see you stay alive, boy, so I want to know what is your name?”
A voice, fortunately for the little dog, draws her attention away.
There is something about his face that causes her to freeze, something familiar about the twists and turns of the metal marbling of his coat that breaks her heart and makes her day all at once. But no. It can’t possibly be. That had been a girl, she remembers. A girl born in the wake of Quiet’s death. Just as beautiful and marbled like her elder sister. They’d given her away, did what they thought was the right thing. Kept her safe, because safety was far from them and the ruin their families bring.
Caw shakes her head.
“Might as well join, make it a party,” she insists, studying the stallion carefully—his eyes.
Even his eyes….
“Risk,” she tests the name, though it sparks no memories and she doesn’t recall having heard it before. They never even gave the girl a name. It could be a child of hers, perhaps. Though she isn’t sure how old their daughter might be or even if her children would be this old by now. They’d been in mourning for so, so long that time had seemingly slipped right on by and forgot to bring them along. “I am Caw.”