Draven heard her explanation but it wasn't good enough. No explanation would ever be good enough for why his mother had died. Sobbing harder the boy buried his face deeper into the grey fur of the yearling, as if this physical closeness could fix everything. It was how Minka had used to hold him and his siblings when they would be upset over a scrape or a squabble. Karina smelled completely different but if he squeezed his eyes hard enough he could almost trick his mind into thinking that his mother had come back to him. Her comment had long since come and pass when Draven broke the silence, "She didn't choose to leave but she's still not here. I miss her." The tears were back, streaming down his muzzle and into her fur staining them both with the physical signs of his grief.
The words seem to open up a floodgate that he had been holding back having no one to say them to. For so long he had kept his silence about his mother because his siblings were gone and he could see what pain the memories caused others. Now though he couldn't hold them any longer, every memory he had of her came spilling out of his mouth. The way she smelled of home and how he couldn't find that scent anymore, the sound of her honey voice, how she always had endless stories to tell. Hide and seek had been their favourite game and Draven knew she let them win but had never told because he liked playing too much. He had no idea how long he spoke for but eventually his voice ran hoarse and he fell silent once more. Eventually he pulled away from Karina, embarrassed that he had spilled so much to a complete stranger. Staring down at his black paws he mumbled, "I should be getting back, Gent doesn't like us to stay away from home for so long."
Tail hung low between his legs as he turned, not wanting to leave but knowing that he had to. With a mournful glance over his shoulder Draven began the journey home, emotions swirling within him. it had felt so good to finally talk of his mother and Karina had been kinder to him about it than anyone had in months. Today began the beginning growth of guilt like a twisted vine in his mind. Was the Crest really his home?