She should have expected the snow, it was that time of year after all, and maybe she would have been alright if it had stopped at the light flurry. But the freezing winds blowing across the lowlands turned even the lightest flakes into an ice storm, biting at her muzzle and leaving tiny pricks of blood. By the time she reached the edge of Kingsfall, she was breathing ragged and shivering all over. Then the snow turned to rain, equally cold, drenching her in minutes.

It was only meant to be a short trip, a few days at the most, tracking the herds to prepare for a potential hunt. She’d been feeling better lately, stronger, ready to take on more responsibility again – and this had been a test run of sorts, to prove to herself that she was ready to step back up; Guess that didn’t work out so well… At least no one else would ever know of her hubris.

She’d need to rest for a few hours though, warm up and wait out the rain. Shivering and exhausted as she were, she didn’t have the energy to search long for a suitable place, simply huddling under the exposed roots of a particular old sequoia, unaware of what else rested there, under the damp soil.

He couldn’t say what in particular spurred him to follow in his mother’s tracks that day - wandering had simply become a favorite pass time, and lazily trailing someone else was the easiest way to do so. At first, he had no intentions on actually catching up, content to use the blazed trail as a springboard for his own exploration, but as the day wore on, and he drifted further and further from the shelter of Kingsfall, worry started to creep up on even his carefree heart. And then the snow started.

Still an unexperienced tracker, the flurry almost made Micaden lose the trail several times, having to double back and take the right turns through the brush of the lowlands. As snow turned to rain, he was in half a heart to give up all together; Surely Ma’s made it home by now… She was far too sensible to stay out in this kind of weather. Only, the scent spoke differently, meandering here and there, almost like she was lost; That definitely can’t be right! And yet, it kept him at it, despite the cold.

The sun had set a while ago when he finally passed between the first sequoia trees, yet the scent markers he was following were worryingly strong. Despite the darkness, it was easy to find his mother, pressed into the hollow between two tree roots, looking eerily still. “Ma?” he called quietly, walking closer on stiff legs, a deep dread settling in the pit of his stomach; “Ma, are you okay?”

She didn’t answer, and the boy was gripped by a sudden urge to turn away, as if running fast and far enough would mean this never happened. But he forced himself forwards, picturing his dad in his mind and how he would have handled it. Taking a deep breath, he reached down to touch his nose against a silvered muzzle, heart pounding in his chest.

She was trembling. Almost imperceptibly, but now that he’d felt it he could tell, her whole body was shivering and she was ice cold. “Ma…?” he asked again, voice fragile like a young pup’s. Her only answer was a faint chittering of her teeth. “It’s okay Ma, I’m here, It’s… Gonna be okay.” He whispered, hunkering down next to her, in an effort to share his warmth; She’ll be better by morning…. He told himself fiercely; if he only wished it hard enough, it would be true.

Curling around his mother’s body, he realized for the first time how much smaller than him she was.

Morning dawned grey and damp, and Micaden, having hardly slept all night, was encouraged to find his mom no longer shivering, but sleeping soundly at his side, chest rising and falling steadily. For most of that day, he would stay glued to her side, scared that she might freeze again without his warmth. As she remained fast asleep, he would talk quietly in her ear, telling her about all his little adventures which he’d otherwise kept secret, and tenderly wash her fur much as she had his so many times before.

The shadows were growing long when she stirred briefly, mumbling unintelligibly. Micaden tried to rouse her further, but to no avail. And she soon drifted off again, leaving her son helpless at her side, torn between the urge to run for help, and the fear of what might happen if he did. In the end, all he could do was send up a desperate howl, carried off uselessly on the wind, to far away to reach the Falls. Then he settled in for another restless night.

The next day the rain returned, hard and cold against the ground, offered little protection by the giant trees spaced so far apart. Micaden did his best to make a shelter, digging out the hollow under the roots and lining it with leaf litter to cover the mud, it wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing.

Exhausted by the work, he could barely even think of moving, but as the day wore on, he started to feel the hunger gnaw at his stomach. Lapping at the pools of gathered rainwater helped by filling him up a little, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get Flair to drink. She remained completely unresponsive.

One more day, he told himself, then he would have to leave her to get help. And it wasn’t looking good. That morning, she started shivering again, and despite his best efforts he couldn’t get her to stop. By mid-day she was twitching and mumbling again, most of the words impossible to make out, but as darkness began to settle, Micaden thought he was hearing names; Chan, Mar, Addy, Mica…

Whining hopefully, the boy huddled even closer, hoping his mom was finally waking up. He was terrified to leave her, afraid that his warmth was the only thing keeping her alive; If she’ll just wake up…! They could get back home; Da’ll know how to help her! Pressing his nose to hers, Mica was shocked at how paradoxically warm she felt, despite her continued shivers.

“Ma?” he whispered. And finally, her eyes opened, looking up at him through a glassy sheen. He couldn’t have possibly imagined her waking up making things worse, but seeing that fevered gaze made his heart sink. Parting her lips, she spoke in a hoarse whisper, just three words, but more than enough; ‘Get yer Da’

So he ran, as fast as his legs could manage, exhausted as he was and fumbling in the dark. It would be dawn before he came within earshot of Paradise Falls, at which point he would send up the loudest howl he could muster, without slowing his run. And he would continue those desperate calls, as he drew nearer and nearer to the borders, until somebody answered.

Thoughts ”Speech”