Gone. Sceral couldn't get over it. One day his mother was alive and beautiful and then next she was laid in the snow, still and sprinkled with snow. It had happened just like that. Bitter cold had stolen her breath from her chest and whisked it off somewhere else. She had looked like she was sleeping, almost peaceful, but the reassuring rise and fall of her chest was missing. She would dream no more, tell no stories to her excitable sons. Sometimes, though, Sceral swore he could hear her whispering his name in the night, as if her voice was carried by the wind. It was comforting, a haunting lullaby of familiarity that sung him to sleep.
But, same as always, the pale Aesir cub awoke with sorrow in his heart. He had dreamt of running with his mother, like he did as a young boy, in warmer times. There were leaves on the trees and grass on the ground and the sound of her laughter filled his ears. For a sweet moment he could feel her—he had his mother back—before they settled and she told him she had to go now. He begged her not to leave but his eyes had fluttered open to inky darkness and loneliness, alone in @Serach and his birthing den. The faintest scent of Corinna lingered and he basked in it, rolled onto his back and wriggled his shoulders in it. He would keep her alive, her memory would not die with her.
Now, Sceral sat at the base of Oak Tree Bend's defining landmark, his crown bowed and muddy eyes focused on his creamy paws that absently pawed at the snow. His mind drifted to all the things he remembered of his life so far and a lump rose in his throat whilst stones sat in his gut. He missed her, more than he had missed anyone who had left in his whole life. More than @Merlin and @Ice.
Memories of warmer days replayed in his head, much like his dream, of sunshine and playing. He remembered her eyes, as green as the forest that sheltered them from rain and sun. When they blossomed and bloomed once more, Sceral would see her in the trees, their emerald leaves and sturdy trunks. They never moved, after all; they stayed rooted in one spot and Corinna, his dearest and most cherished, had always been there. She had never left. Now there was only @Fenru left and the young Prince of the Oak desperately hoped that the oldest brother—his guardian—would not leave, too.