He sighed, comforted by her presence, even if she was not to be his, this, his mother, the first person to show him kindness. Her eyes fluttered open, a smile lighting her face.
"Come.."
She shifted slightly, drawing the dusty chestnut wolf into her arms, softly running her hands over his muzzle and ears. Niko rested his head half on her arm, half pressed against her chest and slipped under the welcoming waves of unconsciousness.
"You are loved, Little One.."
Cassey struggled to stay awake just a little longer; the sun splashed the land, she could feel it, and it dragged her into coma-like sluggishness. With a grunt of effort, she willed movement, walking on hands and knees, and dropped on the other side of the pair. She laid her head on Niko's shoulder, stifling the urge to laugh - his fur tickled - laying an arm across both. Family.. Her thoughts ground to a sudden, lurching stop, her breathing evening out into the patterns of sleep.
Foggy.. he was alone in the kitchen, his
hand bleeding. Tears welled in his eyes, lower lip trembling. The
cookie jar lay shattered at his feet, and he trembled with fear. Daddy
was home.. Daddy might have heard..
Nicky dropped the Oreo he was holding, backing away from the swinging kitchen
door. His shoelaces were untied and he tripped, falling hard. A
thin squeak of terror broke the silence, and he bit his lip to stay silent.
He lay there, breathing raggedly, eyes wide as he trained his senses to hear
the tell-tale squall from the recliner in the living room, imagining the
large, apeish form rising like a beast-of-war from his throne, ready to show
Nicky how bad he was.
He whimpered, wondering where Mommie was; he wanted his Mommieeeeeeeeee.
The cut on his palm was not serious, but it bled a lot, and it scared
him. He scrambled to his feet, pressing the wounded hand against his
shorts to stop the slow seeping.
Gotta clean up the mess. If Daddy ever found out.. He
shook his head. He didn't want to think about it. Being as quiet
as possible, he picked up the jags and shards decorating the linoleum,
carrying them in his T-shirt. He dug some of the trash out of the waste
can, dumping the first load and went back for a second, then a third. Several
fingers were bleeding now, but he didn't have time to worry about it. Daddy
would be coming for one of the dark bottles soon, even if he hadn't
heard the dull explosion.
