She doesn’t expect the young boy to approach nor does she notice until he is nearly adjacent to her. The rustling of grass detaches her attention from the changed world and she turns her head to look down at him. A honeyed smile passes across her lips even as her heart wrenches. He, for a split moment, reminds Cerva of the filly in the adoption den (where is she?). They have the same hopeful and curious eyes that beam up at her as though she is their saving grace, their own guardian angel. It bathes her in warmth and she wants to reach out to cradle him against her side, but she suppresses the urge with a slow pivot to face him.
”A mother?” She asks as though afraid of having heard him wrong, but she knows that is what he is questioning. In the back of her mind Cerva knows what a mother should be, but instead her memory remembers Noori and how absent she had been. It was a power struggle, she sees it, but she doesn’t fault mother because she knew there had to have been some amount of adoration between her and Eight. After all, for a brief time, the triplets had been bathed in adoration.
Cerva shifts lightly on her feet, not yet realizing why a part of her feels so empty. She hasn’t yet tried to control poison ivy or even shift into a badger. When Beqanna was eating itself she knew her best chances would be as she was instead of being burrowed deep in her den. Unlike much of Beqanna Cerva doesn’t wholly rely on her own magic; she feels the odd tingle in the air but never yet questions it. Her mind has been preoccupied with the changes and now this boy as he beams up at her still awaiting an answer. ”I’m not a mother, no,” it’s almost painful to admit this, but she hasn’t yet found herself quite so attached to anyone to even consider bringing life into this world. ”A mother brings a child into this world,” she hesitates and reconsiders this, ”and is a constant in the foal’s life. A mother is a guardian, a nurturing soul.” It’s what she aspires to be which is made evident by the dreamy tone of her voice and the distant look in her eyes as she stares toward the horizon.
A sigh slips from her and she glances back down to the boy. ”I hope to be a mother one day,” she adds sweetly before dropping her head to level with his. ”I’m Cerva, and what’s your name?” A little star boy; perhaps he is her north, her guide into what her heart yearns for most.
Cerva