[private] my words are unerring tools of destruction; femur

[Femur]

I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.

His sleeping looks fitful and it is fitting that she disrupt it before dreams become nightmares. Femur would have let him sleep further were it not for her own desire to be back in the lush tropic hideaway of her beloved where she has left another curled around himself in the grass to sleep and dream. She is distracted from thoughts of that one by how this one stirs beneath her tender touch and begins to come up and out of his dreams with a hopeful question that Femur can only shake her head at. No, she is not his mother - not the one who rightfully bore him, but she can be all else that a mother can be to him.

She is not quick to answer him because he is charming her with a child’s smile that offers up all the innocence and trust left inside him. Femur is slaughtered by such a look as the one he gives her even as he breathes her in and exhales himself out so near to her nose that she cannot smell anything but the sweet soft baby scent of him. This moment, she is about to drop her nose into the tufted fuzz of baby forelock and mane and press more mothering sentiments to his brow when the thunderous rumble of his stomach shakes loose loud enough for even Femur to hear it.

The sad flop of his ears and the disappointment on his face is more than enough to undo her - he must be hers! He is a perfect balance to the little one she left laying back in a hot secret part of Tephra that is known to few else but her beloved and her. Even his small attempt at bravery is commendable for all that he looks like he is trying to curl inward upon himself and her lips find his cheek in gentle encouragement. “No, I have not.” and the admittance is neither sad nor pained - just truthful as she looks at him with understanding rich in her eyes.

“I’d imagine you are.” she has never known a hunger like the one he must be feeling. Sinew had been free with her milk for her daughter and now, Femur can do what she can for him by encouraging him further with her nose to get up and go to her flank. She is certain she can make the milk come for him as she has for her other son, odd to think of him - them - as hers, but they are and they will be. If only for a little while, until they’ve grown and take on the world in their own way. For now, she is content to be the gravitational pull that refuses to spit them back out onto their own feet.

“Come,” she murmurs, giving another encouraging bump of her muzzle to his cheek. “I’ve enough to go around.” and she gestures to her own teats that are not quite full and swollen but Femur is nothing if not resilient - there will be enough for this one too, she knows it, somehow. “You were brave to try and find her.” More encouragement, more bravado in the face of his despairing situation if he decides to not drink from her and follow her but Femur thinks he is a smart boy and he’ll not look a gift horse in the mouth even if she isn’t quite his mother. Beqanna provides, she always does.

Femur

@[Gansey]