Role

Chapter 5

He would stay that way, thinking of both mothers. The one that he could feel
and touch and see but never understand what she was saying. And the other one
that he could not remember anything about, other than a voice that gives
instructions and a golden hair and a brief occasional smile as he and his
brother played. He would then look about him and look at the strange place
and the strange creature guarding it. There he was, looking for a mother yet
still. A mother that he knew was real. That had a physical form around which
he may hope to wrap his brain around. A form that had a voice and deep wisdom
that she may decide to share. A mother, beautiful and honest. A mother that
he could see and hear.

He would admonish himself then. Telling himself that he was nothing but a
crude, wild madman that talked to spirits and nonsentient animals. An
Immortal God is not a mother or some silly forest spirit. Then he would pray
awkwardly and briefly, and then he would leave. Leaving a poisonous
millipede, or a thorny rose behind and the reverberating echoes of a
frightened spirit still searching.