There she went again, admitting her fault and it made it the pedestal that had always held her up in his mind chip and crack further. It was about to shatter, and he couldn't tell if it would make everything easier or ruin the world completely for him. Part of him wanted @Sahalie here with him now, to support him and to help him see clearly as she had time and time again. A larger part of him wanted to run back to the Ridge, to collect @Attica and leave with her, to never see any of them again, even the girl that had been nothing but sunshine against his bleakness. If it was just the two of them, if he escaped all the attachment and responsibility he felt toward this pack and these wolves, then perhaps they would both be safe from all the havoc they insisted on wreaking against his heart.
She would want that, wouldn't she? He'd done his best to be her windbreaker, her shield against all of their fake smiles and turned backs, but still they'd both been orphaned. They hadn't talked about it, but she had to know of the venom that existed amongst all the others. Who wouldn't want to get away from it? The only antidote was a mountain away and he feared her still.
I'm proud of you.
That single admission stopped his heart completely. When was the last time he'd been told that? How long had he waited to hear it from his own mother? That was what he'd wanted, from the day she left. For her to come back and see that he'd been such a good boy, that if she stayed she'd never be disappointed in him, he'd never misbehave. He'd done his best not to blame himself, he'd made a villain out of @Rook and the Hollow, had spit venom at the rest of his packmates, but it had been there deep down, the possibility that she'd gone because he wasn't a worthy son.
A sob shook his chest, but he was pulling away from her, paws pushing against the slush numbly. He wanted to turn and run then and there, but then she made a horrid sound and at last he opened his eyes to see her face twisted with the pain of her cough. He hated the concern that rose up like bile into his throat.
"Is that why you're back? Are you sick?"
His voice was hollow, scratchy as his lungs labored. He wanted her to say yes so that he could stop holding back the anger and still he wanted his mother to tell him no, that she was in perfect health and would not leave him again so soon. Why couldn't his heart decide? The dissonance was tearing him apart and anyone could see it in his eyes. His heart was not a tzedakah, but she'd always been regarded on a different plateau than the others, and he still couldn't tell if she deserved it or not. He just wanted the hurting to stop.