My World
Chapter Six
Child
Well, no one is updating. At all. So I'm attempting to start a trend.
Mother lays down to sleep, seeming to radiate life. Joy.
Innocence.
It's an odd word, full of so many things, and implications, the more you think about it the less it seems to mean. It's like a candy bar, nearly, the deeper you get the more it changes.
No matter what, everyone claims that children are innocent. That they haven't a care in the world. They only frolic about and play.
Father moves about, gentle-like, as not to rouse Mom. Love.
Finally, they're right. That's all I tend to do, I play at warrior but suddenly it's no longer a game.
Oftentimes it my place to get away, to not have to deal with the harsh light of reality.
The den itself is cramped and smells of so many things, from food, to mates, to leaves, and back to rain... Inhale deeply, a cacophony of scents, just the right mix to put even the most troublesome kit right to sleep. Comfy.
But it isn't full of true warmth, only happy memories.
Being surrounded by something delightful.
The comfort of a mother's hug after a long cry.
The guidance of a father as they show you the ways of life.
Sometimes, if I just think hard enough and if I will it, I come here before I sleep.
Other times you have to be happy with the other warmth you can get, the fake kind tainted by fear. Then, I am denied of that often too.
Little ones ought not go to think. Ought not worry. Ought not cry for any sort of good reason.
In the perfect world, they allow mother and father to take care of them--to feed them, to love them, comfort them, and, most importantly of all, to teach them.
Suddenly life isn't nearly as clear-cut when you have to figure out some things on your
lonesome.
"Come here, little one." Mother calls, not the harsh sounds that indicate I should slink forth and do my best to appear darling and innocent. Just a sweet murmur and I leap without a second thought into her arms. Safe.
Not that I dare feel sorry for myself, I do know how close I came to death. Kits don't last long without mothers. I am no exception.
She strokes me gently, little cooing words slowly whirl together into one long lullaby. "Good night."
Warmth.
The last thing I hear before my so troubled world goes dark and I enter the strange land of dreams.
"Inuyasha!" The name came from her lips in a hiss. "Be quiet!"
He glared shamelessly at the kit cradled to her body, but softened slightly at the way they looked together. "Feh."
"Slumber on, little dreamer."