Abalone - she/they - lower caverns - Urchin, @SirenSolis
“Oh love..” They crouched their body low to check over Urchin’s raised paw for him, first sniffing the digits for blood, and when none was found they carefully touched the pads with the sensitive skin of their nose to diagnose what problem might be hiding there. The skin felt a bit rougher than normal and somewhat warm, slightly swollen. Just a bruise then, she could surely find some scraps of linen to wrap it if Urchin was really troubled with it; Abalone knew that wouldn't help it to heal faster, but playing sage would make the injury feel taken care of, and that would help lessen the pain. “You’re alright,” she quickly swallowed the phrase, looking at Urchin and knowing he was still feeling unwell. “You’ll be alright, I promise baby,” Abalone corrected softly. Her son leaned up against her forelegs with a whimper, looking for comfort, and she did her best to give it to him by nuzzling her head into the soft, light fur of his neck and chest.
Abalone felt her son begin to shake as his breath hitched right away, closely pressed up against her as he was. They let him have the silence to try and breathe, curled against his small body as best she could be in the somewhat cramped space. But the words Urchin finally did speak tore into her with serrated teeth. She could hear Shark’s voice in her son’s words, as clear as if he were stalking them still. Abalone couldn't stop her bright eyes from scanning the stone outcroppings that surrounded her and Urchin, a shiver trailing her spine and standing her hackles on end at the thought. They crushed the idea quickly: they couldn’t afford to get lost in those memories of their old life and the stupid, paranoid fears it brought with it. Not when Urchin needed them to be present.
But spirits above, what was she supposed to say? Abalone felt her own wave of guilt coursing through her mind as she shifted her neck in order to be face-to-face with Urchin. Her thoughts were a blinding maelstrom of doubt '-A better mother would have said the right thing the first time, the second time, and the third would have never happened. A better mother would have left sooner, have fought harder, have never even trusted him to begin with. A better mother-’ “Urchin.” She worked to keep her voice firm and honest, forcing her mind to stop in its tracks. Panic wouldn't help them now, there was nowhere to run. “This is not your fault. It's never been your fault.” She shook her head for emphasis, and softened her tone as she continued, “You said it yourself: you can't see in here, and you didn't mean to get lost. You’ll learn your way around the caves soon, I’m sure of it.” Abalone couldn’t help second-guessing if that had been the right thing to say to Urchin in the beat of silence that followed. It felt somehow lacking, and they sighed slightly with exasperation at their own imperfection. “I love you,” she finished softly, shifting forward to lick tenderly at Urchin’s forehead with care, almost apologetically.