“I am not good. My daughter is dead and I’m alive to say.”
Shouldn’t parents give up their lives for their children? It was a bit of a double standard – he’d never blamed his own parents for the loss of his sister when there was clearly nothing they could do – but Veho had always held himself to a higher standard than any other wolf. Only fair, wasn’t it? Couldn’t control the others, only himself. Only what he did.
His legs wobbled again and down he tumbled, stiff limbs gone to wet noodles as he fell awkwardly to his belly, and then his side. With his nose barely above water, he didn’t seem to care at all, not that it was in one of his ears. The water lapped at him, cold and relentless – or maybe it was the guilt eating at him from all sides. At least his entire head was wet now, and he didn’t have to debate just why his cheeks were soaked and his eyes burned. Veho gave a shuddering sigh.
“I should have helped her. Or…” Eyes slipped shut. He wasn’t sure what else to say, not anymore. It felt empty, and hollow – who was he when all the anger and sadness was drained away? “I don’t hate him. Mouse. Or Merida, or Roland, or Aegir. Any of them. But I am cursed, clearly. All mine are gone now. Can’t do that to any more children. Can’t. I should have known. Seen. Ancestors are guiding paws – not mine, but away. Mine were firmly planted. Not listening, perhaps. But I can’t hear them now. I want to.”
Veho made a lame attempt to curl all his limbs to himself, like a child himself, as if he could make himself small, as if he could make all the hurt stop. “I don’t think…I know who I am.” Father. Leader. Healer. Lover. Those where all whats, not whos, and besides, he wasn’t very good at any of them. When he opened his eyes again, they weren’t quite as cloudy. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I failed.”