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12-24-2015, 09:29 PM
Zsoka
I live the death of the young and the free Knox has tried everything. He has done all he can as a father, all he can within his limited power, to make his son speak. But nothing has any effect, nothing can change his strange ways. Knox wants to write it off as a stubborn phase of childhood, but he recognizes the symptoms of sadness. He has failed to connect with his son on many levels, in many ways, but in this they share a sorrow that Knox can understand. He, too, hurts. He, too, finds it difficult to speak. And so Knox does not fault Milo for turning away from the world. They have both lost a friend--something more for Knox, but something important still for Milo. His first death, so young. No wonder the boy is scarred. They walk together now at a slow pace, seeking the Dauntless. Knox does not feel his ancestors as he once did, perhaps with the bridle torn and so far the connection has lost all meaning, but he takes the form of the youngest to appeal to his son's own needs. Milo knows all of Knox's secrets, all of his pain. There is a bond there that is strong in its own way, one that the now lost hunter hopes to foster. So he shows his son his magic, shows him all his power, and walks with him as an equal. Two colts, of near-equal age and similar size, both hindered by the pain that their bodies bear in backs and legs, appear at the edge of a large fall and wait. The sky above is speckled with rain that threatens to turn to snow, the clouds create a gloom that begs to be noticed. The air is cold, the hearts are colder. They stand together for warm; they touch necks, arc over each other in delicate, peaceful, pain. Archibald will come, surely he must. Knox trusts his brother, Milo his uncle. They are family, after all. "" |
