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Cypress trusted his mother. Believed in the bits of wisdom she often shared with him and his brothers. For the first time he felt doubt in her words. She made it sound so easy, too easy. He did not believe that she could know what the boiling anger felt like, a monster trying to crawl through his skin. It was rare for his tawny mother to so much as raise her voice, so how could she know the scorching heat of the rage, least of all how to control it. But for her he would try. For it was true that the boy seldom did much with his day. He often let the time float by leisurely rather than putting himself to some use in service to the pack. The youth simply nodded along to the advice of his mother, hiding his skepticism. ”I’ll try Momma, I hope you are right.” It was not a lie, for Cypress hoped conquering his anger could be as simply as putting his mind and body to purpose.
”I love you too, Momma.” The boy smiled softly, leaning over and giving his mother a gentle lick on her cheek, near the line of her jaw. ”And I always will.”
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