Red Moon's, Eclipse

SECOND HOUR

Avery was not a happy child. He had been a silent infant and at two, he made for a rather brooding toddler. As Esme watched him, eyes above the stitchwork she was busying herself with, she could see the blank look in his eyes as he explored the world around him. They were not blank in incomprehension or stupidity, however. Esme knew best how intelligent lycanthrope children were compared to their mortal brethren. From birth, they retained memories well. The magic in their soul, the magic in their wolf, caused this acceleration in mental capabilities.

No, no her child was definitely not stupid however... The best way, she supposed, to describe the look in his flat eyes was — well, that they reminded her of a void. Every time she saw his round, hazel irises, it was like staring into two little voids. They never lit up nor reacted to anything.

As Esme worried herself sick, she mindlessly continued stitching up the white petticoat in her hands. The underskirt had gotten a few holes in it from her eldest's rough manner. Tabitha was Esme's only daughter and was nearly sixteen come winter; the oldest of the six. Esme inwardly chided her daughter's boyish manner, knowing she would never be married off like that. Not if she kept acting like a heathen.

Lost in her thoughts, Esme's hand accidentally slipped and stabbed herself in the finger with a sewing needle.

"Ow," she flinched and quickly put the injured finger in her mouth. As she waited for the bleeding to stop, she gazed at her son.

Avery had started at the sound of her pain. He now stood in the center of the cottage staring straight at her. Esme wished, in that moment, to know what her son was thinking but it was impossible. She had rejected the maternal bond that could've been forged. The opportunity would never present itself again. She would, forever, be cut off from being his mom completely. All she could do was be the best human mom for him.

As they stared at one another, so consumed with the action, they failed to notice heavy steps heading up to the cottage. A moment later, Harry was making his way inside, stomping his boots against the wall before he turned to them with a grimace.

"My finger is — oh, Esme," Harry's voice lowered in exasperated concern. "What have you done to yourself?"

Esme's eyes widened, "Oh, nothing, dear. The sewing needle slipped," she offered as Harry approached her. He pulled the finger from her mouth and inspected the already clotted wound. An instant later it disappeared altogether — like it never existed in the first place.

There was a micro expression that crossed Harry Farnum's face, almost too quick to notice, but not too quick for a lycan. Esme inhaled a nervous breath as her soulmate looked nearly hateful at the evidence of her healing ability — at her inhumanity. Then, his eyes met hers and the scary expression vanished. Instantaneously.

"You know I feel your pain. Do be careful," he whispered to her as if it was a secret.

"I will," she smiled at him. "Did you only come in to check on me?"

"Yes, Evan, he's —"

Right then, their second eldest, Harry Evan Farnum, waltzed in. The fourteen-year-old carried on the name of his father and likewise, his golden blond hair. However, Evan had his mother's eyes. Big, round and blue like the ocean.

"Mom —"

"Stamp your boots on the wall!" Esme chastised her son. "Do you want to track dirt in here? I will make you sweep it. So help me!"

"Sorry, sorry," Evan quickly complied, shaking off the considerable mud and leaves caked on his boots before stepping inside.

"Good," Esme nodded before turning her attention back to her husband. "Now, what were you saying?"