Word Count → 3+
Perhaps the boy would not seem so odd if he had been able to communicate the wondrous and fantastical imaginations of his mind. All children were capable of creating fictional stories and games for themselves, but most could proudly voice to their guardians that they were a stallion, galloping wild and free.
All Alaine saw was her quirky, wrong son, running in an odd stiff-legged lope with that same hollow smile on his face as usual. Something within her heart caved, just a little - Perhaps, in the woman's own imagination, she had fantasized about calling for her son and having a normal little boy run through the grass to her.
But that was the thing about becoming an adult - There was no escape from reality.
Regardless of this cruel recognition, love swelled within her at the sight of the tubby merle body, the beautiful blue eyes. They were such a startlingly pure color, lighter even than Caillen's had been; Like crystals, portals to the child trapped within his own mind. For that alone, she found redemption for him, for having created him. Elijah may have been wrong, but he was pure, and she knew him to have the most golden of hearts.
She had taken to her four-legged form today, wishing for the freedom it provided. Although she had no hands, this skin felt comfortable and more natural when interacting with her children, who were yet too young to perform the transformation themselves. Already, Alaine had imagined what they would look like - Beautiful, she mused lightly. The Winters children, for all their flaws, were both handsome creatures with silky, glossy fur and well-built bodies. Once they had grown out of their endearing puppy fat, she had little doubts that like their mother and their father, they would be pleasing to the eye.
Looking down on Gabriel's mask, but undeniably Elijah's face, the colliewoman smiled gently. Her final seeking calls had faded on sight, and now as the rotund little boy trotted up to her with excitably wagging tail, she could not help but mirror the true joy she saw, buried deep and unaccessible within those beautiful eyes. "Elijah, mo croi," Came the gentle coo to award his obedience. Her pink tongue sought to groom his widely smiling face, and the disheveled little tuft of hair on his head. "Will you speak for me today?" The whisper was dipped with excitement and hope, as it had been all the other days prior.
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