How bad must it have been then...to be dead one moment when you were so small to then see your kin grown. It was still hard to think about. His mother was here, had to be around the same age as he. That was when she died.

Life went on and on, without her. Without guidance. Hard as it was, he still thought about it.

She spoke of a mother at times when it would strike his heart the most, and it gave him sadness and joy at the same time.

It was that sort of time in which Connor felt more like savoring than regretting. As he was carrying that injured bird. It probably set off more feelings in them both more than they thought. The bird was snuggling up to his chest, like a small child would. What he could imagine he did when he was even younger than when she passed on. It was a little overwhelming, but he was quick to transfer that into a reaction. A sane one. Connor had few outbursts after all. Very few.

"I know, Mother..." Connor said. "Thank you. I promise, I will be as wise with my actions. I can only promise. These gifts that have been given to me, to this day I still find it a hard medicine to take. I almost feel as if I were much younger, perhaps it is all better late than never."