#duskwrites

He knows she never wanted to abandon him. Edain says as much, stroking his hair with soft, mournful eyes, as she tells him how much his mother loved him. He knows that she only went to get his cousin, so that they could all be together again, one big happy family. And though Edain is as kind a Mother to them all as they could ask for...he has no right to claim her as his mother. Just like he has no right to claim Oifey as his father, or his uncle, or his brother. Family is everything, in Jugdral--and the issue of family can also so easily tear one apart.

So he does not ask them to give such a name to the bonds he cherishes so deeply in his heart. Instead, he takes the carved wooden comb his mother had left behind--a relic of her previous pampered life--and drags it through his hair. If he shuts his eyes, he can pretend it is her hands, gentle on his head. His father is long gone now, but--his mother might still be out there.

It’s a foolish hope, he knows. One born of a child’s desperation to be special, to be loved. To be cherished more than anyone else in the world. Many of the other children here have lost loved ones as well. He is hardly the only orphan among the children of Tirnanog. But the hope of seeing her again...of seeing what remains of his family again...it’s what keeps him moving forward, no matter what Oifey says about his kindness and strength.

He doesn’t have grand goals. Of course he wants everyone on the continent to be able to live in peace and happiness. Of course he wants to be someone strong enough for people to rely on, someone who can make it so that no child will ever have to grow up in fear again. But most of all...he just wants to see his family again.