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AARYN

He\'d barely made it to the bottom of the path down the mountainside from the disformed cave when he stopped dead.

Directly across from where he stood, where the paths intersected and a thick patch of trees sheltered several bushes, two bright eyes peered out from between the branches of a large bush, watching him.

Aaryn\'s breath stopped. He swallowed convulsively, staring, uncertain what to do.

"Mom?" he breathed.

In a blink she was gone, her silver-white fur flashing in the gap where her eyes had been. There was no noise at her passage, though one of the saplings nearby quivered briefly.

For a moment, all other thoughts fled his head and Aaryn launched himself into the bushes, crashing through to look for a trail, a track, anything. But as soon as he pushed through that initial barrier, he got one fleeting glimpse of her tail disappearing between trees deeper in the forest and he staggered to a halt again.

He\'d never be able to keep up with her on two feet.

"Mom! Please!" he called, then snapped his teeth closed over the call.

He didn\'t want anyone else to hear, to ask him questions. He wasn\'t ready for that yet. He knew the day would come—the pack needed to know. And the hunters.

Going Silent was rare, but when it happened, those whose livelihood was in the forest would try to avoid harming the animal, just in case. It was a tradition—some called it a superstition—but no one wanted to be the Anima that killed an animal for meat or skin, only to discover they\'d killed another Anima. So he knew he had to tell them, and quickly if she was hanging around the City. But… but the thought of the conversation made him physically recoil.

How could he admit to others that his mother had been willing to abandon him? Those that cared for him would be angry with her. And those that didn\'t… their opinions of him, of the disformed, would be affirmed.

There was no good ending to any of this. And suddenly the weight of it all pushed his shoulders down. He slumped with exhaustion and grief. The circumstances of the preceding days—all the ways he\'d failed and been failed. All the things he couldn\'t change, and all the regrets he had that he would carry for the rest of his life.

A tiny groan, a call for help, poured out of his throat, but he swallowed it back.

He couldn\'t face anyone just then.

So, following the line of the sun, he turned and made his way through the WildWood, avoiding the City, crossing one of the trails that didn\'t get a lot of foot traffic, then making his way through the west and south of the city, towards the Weeping Tree.

He knew Elreth was likely to be busy for the rest of the day. He could only pray that Reth and Elia hadn\'t decided to take a little adventure together.

He needed space to be alone, to grieve, and to not have to answer any questions—or pretend to be okay. He didn\'t think he could have smiled if his life had depended on it. And if anyone asked if he was okay, he feared he might actually just… break.

So he crept through the forest, listening and watching, making sure to avoid any place where others might be, until he finally reached the little clearing where the Weeping Tree rested, its peaceful branches beckoning him to come, to rest.

He paused for a moment to listen, to make sure there was no one else here. That he would be properly alone. But after a moment, there were none of the telltale shuffles or mating calls that had greeted he and Elreth a couple of times when they\'d almost disturbed her parents.

Almost crying with relief, Aaryn swallowed the pinch in his throat and rushed forward to push between the curtain of green leaves to the wide space underneath the tree\'s wide branches.

It was as if a door closed between him and the rest of the world when he stepped in there and the sob he\'d stifled finally broke in his throat.

Limbs heavy and mind spinning with everything that wanted to drag him into the dirt, or the fire, Aaryn made it to the trunk of the large tree and turned, sliding down its smooth trunk to sit in the hollow carved by its roots in the dirt.

He pulled his knees up almost to his chest and put his elbows on them, dropping his face into his hands.

He would not cry like a pup. He wouldn\'t.

He would not break, snap like a twig.

He was an Alpha—had been. He was dominant. Whether he could shift or not, he had the strength to overcome this. He did!

But his mind seemed determined to torture him—all the misery of his mother for all these years, and his willingness to ignore the danger of it.

All the admiration he\'d had from the disformed, the ways he\'d let that feed him until he\'d drawn them away from the hierarchy without even knowing it.

Elreth\'s eyes, her expression when he\'d told her he would stay the Alpha of the disformed rather than be her Cohort. He\'d broken a piece of their trust that day. Yet another failure.

With a groan of pain that was visceral, he laid his arms on his knees and dropped his forehead to them, wincing against the pain.

He would push through this. He would. He had to. He\'d already failed everyone—his mother, Elreth, himself. The disformed…

He couldn\'t afford any more mistakes. No more weakness.

This was his moment to rest to breathe and… yes, to weep if that was what it would take. But he had to purge himself of all this failure and regret. Because it was only going to kill him—and his mate—if he didn\'t.

He heard the patter of a tear on his leathers before he realized he was crying.

Then the dam broke.

*****

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