12/17/2025, 5:21 PM
He followed his mother's trail. Maybe he was too old to still be following her, but he was still just a boy, and he was immensely worried about her. She always seemed so strong to him, and she still did, but he could sense something off about her—a melancholy, maybe—but to Kyoami it was something he couldn't quite pinpoint. She seemed sad, and he wanted to fix that.
Mother?He spoke quietly as she sat at the edge of the stream, a small gathering of flowers at his grey paws. He knew she liked flowers, and he'd picked the ones he had thought smelled nice.
