Eros felt his sister lean into him, and he reciprocated, thankful for her presence. He'd learned that wolves could pass away, that they could get lost, and now his father explained that they could be sent away, too. The tawny boy clearly did not understand, perplexment heavy on his pinched features. He felt a measure of relief when Viorel made it clear that the others weren't expected to not keep contact with Aunt Mo, but it was a futile flicker in a cavern of shadowy, worrying questions. Where would she go, how would she stay safe, how would he be able to keep contact with her when going into the wilderness had permanently taken several family members already?
Most of all,
why did this happen? Upset welled within him as he continued to reference an
argument until at last there were some details that could actually explain it all. That was, if they'd made any sense themselves. The things his father said sounded so outlandish. What had dad done that was 'shameful'? How could he have had too many kids? What was a whore, a swamp? Why did any of it mean he couldn't lead them like he always had?
His other mother's response was soft, and then came Archer's,
loud. Eros' eyes widened with shock as they landed on his brother and the rage overtaking his dark features. The words themselves were like grenades, and by the end of it all he was trying to regulate his breathing and stay calm. To
not burst into tears and hide away from all of this.
Aunt Modesto
hated them? That wasn't true. It
wasn't. Every fond memory cycled through his head in flashes, all the times she had been there for him, the things she'd taught him, the pride she'd helped to instill. Those weren't things someone could just
fake.
"... she didn't mean it," he finally spoke up, voice stifled by watery emotion as he was audibly close to crying.
"Something... must have been wrong, if we... talked to her..."