Her letter to Yatrel had grown longer than intended, flowing from detailed and respectful gratitude into something approaching confession.
/ ...I find myself questioning whether I possess even a fraction of the maternal wisdom you demonstrated so naturally. In moments of reflection, I recognize how much the remembered experiences of my past life have shaped me. Into someone who fundamentally lacks the sort of gentleness that motherhood seems to require… /
The quill hovered above the page, ink threatening to blot over the very word 'motherhood' as memories she'd kept carefully contained began to surface. Elua murmured to the empty room, save the half-asleep fox, her voice carrying the flat tone reserved for her most honest moments.
"Would it be like with Onya? That doesn't feel like… enough. In ways that matter."
