Life on such serene farmland was wonderful—plentiful food, peace, and quiet... he couldn't ask for much of anything else, really.

But, deep in the back of her mind, thoughts about his kin began to rouse. Where were his brothers, now? His mother? Did she live with any guilt over tearing apart their family? Did Itzcoatl ever find her? Reunite with her?

And if they did, he mused with a humorless simper—how disappointed was the poor boy that his mother truly didn't give a shit about him?

He shut his eyes, imagined how violently Quetzalli would react to seeing her puny son after she'd done everything in her power to never see him—or any of her children, for that matter—ever again. The one who so desperately grovelled at her feet for her love and affection, failing to accept, time and time again, that his presence did naught but feed her incessant ire. It was visible with the wounds that scattered his body from the harsh snaps of her teeth against his frame.

And yet, Ashkii was the delusional one for wishing for a simple, happy family.

Ironic, isn't it?

The sire rolled onto his back with a grunt, watching the dark clouds roll over the wide expanse of the sky. Stars were disappearing as the sun blushed in the east, foretelling its imminent arrival.

Ashkii would have to retreat to his burrow soon. But, for now, he was content to lie on his back, silently watching as the sky shifted from caliginous sable to a vibrant cerulean.