Family Reunion with a Monster

Soft ashes held the form of footprints traveling down the cascades of long cooled lava, and the cool winter air was masked by the heat of Ashlands Mountain. It had been three years since Sangura had felt ash and basalt beneath her, but she was not a curious teen exploring lands that her herd had called forbidden, this was a rebellious daughter returning home to her mother after running away.

Sangura felt uneasy in the Ashlands, but it was not because the landscape was drained of any color outside of the occasional patches of dark brown or red rock peering from a backdrop of blacks and grey, nor was it that the winter season had left what few patches of green existed here yellowed in their hibernation. Her unease came from the monster which lived in the Ashlands: A giant styracosaur with twisted horns, stained from head to toe in dried blood, which would not hesitate to kill another and eat their flesh without a second thought. The Wrath of the Ashlands. But this monster was something even worse to her, for this monster had another name.

“Mother.”

Sangura spoke out towards a partially collapsed human den, half buried under the attempts of the mountain to consume all in its shadow. Her voice brought a stir within the den. A form emerged out of a compromised wall, horns raking against the jagged lip of the break with a quiet grumble.

Every fiber of her muscles were urging Sangura to leave, especially when the form that emerged was initially unfamiliar to her. The Styracosaurus that emerged from the den was covered in scars. Two holes scored the frill, as well as one side of the mouth. The back of this Styracosaurus was similarly severe, covered from shoulder to hip in bare flesh. It would not be till her eyes landed with this individual’s piercing yellow eyes that she realized this was indeed her mother who had appeared from the darkness. Even with this revelation, she still felt the need to steel her resolve.

Wrath stared at her for what felt like minutes before speaking in kind.

“I see that you have returned, Sangura.” Wrath’s raspy voice had shot through Sangura with a terrible comfort. She was expecting her mother to be more concerned with her disappearance and return. It had been three years since the two had seen each other, but Wrath’s cadence made it sound like Sangura had only left the Ashlands for three hours.

Snagura’s beak clacked softly as she discarded her prior expectation of this meeting. Wrath returned to her usual silent stare, waiting for her daughter’s next move. Reorienting her thoughts to find something, anything to say, Sangura finally spoke up.

“I’m not here to stay,” Her voice shaked slightly, uncertain if she could say anything correctly at this point. “I just want to ask a question.”

Wrath’s shape shifted slightly as she rasped in disappointment, “I see…” She rotated herself back toward the den. A flick of the frill signalling Sangura to follow. The resistance of Sangura’s body to follow felt like fighting against the gale of a hurricane, but she obliged.

Despite the crumpled nature of the human den, the space itself was quite large. The ground was less inundated with the remains of lava flows than the outside would suggest. There were a few pieces of human bedding tossed about to fit the rough dimensions of Wrath, who had begun to lower herself into the nest. Her head was raised by the most intact piece of bedding. There was no surprise on Sangura’s face that there was no such bedding for guests. The few remains of Sangura’s old nest looked to have been picked apart by vermin over the years, leaving it a sad puddle of scraps of fabric and stuffing littered in the corner.

A heaving breath by Wrath announced that the process of entering her bed had completed, with a second breath before speaking, “Before you ask your question, I want to know where you’ve been all this time.”

Sangura’s feathers prickled in a shiver. While it was not an unexpected question, the thought of actually giving Wrath an answer still filled her with dread. Luckily for her it seemed that an uneasy patience was granted as Sangura mustered up the courage to speak.

“I left to see how others lived, to know what I really am.” Her response felt almost diplomatic, as if she was addressing a herd she never met before. While she had been raised by Wrath, her gut instinct had told Sangura that this was not how a styracosaur should live. Wrath modeled a life of violence and isolation, where Sangura even in her youngest years craved to know more people, to not hunt anything down for what felt like no reason, to explore outside of the Ashlands.

Wrath stared at Sangura, but it didn’t feel like her cold, piercing stare. No, something about how Wrath looked at her seemed more understanding than she expected. It alone seemed to beckon her daughter to continue. “I found a herd that would accept me, and I’ve been traveling with them for the last three years, learning how we’re supposed to live.” Her expectation to be met with some form of vitriol or dismay continued to be denied by Wrath, who only continued to listen. “I learned that what you had taught me is not how we are supposed to live, that your way of living is like that of a monster.”

Even that choice wording refused to elicit the response she expected from her mother. However Wrath did speak up with another breath guiding the words. “Then why have you come to visit a monster?” There was no tone of disdain for that title, it was almost as if Wrath had not only accepted being a monster, but took pride in such a moniker. The way this confrontation had played out so far almost made Sangura forget why she even came to see Wrath in the first place.

“Because even after learning everything about how we are supposed to live, and being accepted and cared for as if I was born in that herd, I still don’t feel like I belong!” Sangura felt the need to breathe before she raised her voice further. Wrath’s expression had shifted again, but it seemed more melancholic than anything else, before returning to something more stoic.

“I am sorry, Sangura.” The words that left Wrath’s beak struck harder than anything she could have prepared for. “I never felt as though I belonged in a herd, and I should not have expected the same from you. I do not blame you for leaving.” At this point it felt as if her mother charging into her heart with her horn would have been less painful. Sangura took a moment to compose herself, now that another breath had signaled the end of Wrath’s unexpected apology.

It wasn’t until her daughter had calmed back down that she spoke again. “I believe you had a question for me, Sangura.”

Despite it having been months of just preparing for this confrontation, Sangura finally felt as though the words could actually pass her beak with ease. “Who is my Father?”

It was the first time since they had entered the den that Wrath had moved something other than her head, as she began to rise from her bed. This unexpected change had sent Sangura back into an internal panic, thinking that it was finally time for Wrath to live up to her name.

“Ehyr”

Wrath’s raspy voice made it sound almost like a random noise at first. “Your father’s name is Ehyr.”

Sangura felt as though she shouldn’t have been surprised that Wrath answered her question without opposition, but she was also hit with the feeling of surprise that the whole conversation so far had been going as well as it had in the first place.

“He is a large Styracosaur, black and purple with an orange frill. I do not know where he is or if he is alive.” Wrath’s description felt cold, like that of the herd’s lineage keeper.

“Thank you, Mother.” It felt weird for Sangura to say that to her mother at this point, and the atmosphere of the whole conversation, as pleasant as it was in terms of words spoken, had put her on edge overall. At this time the winter sun began to wain in the sky. “I believe it is time for me to return to the herd, I don’t want them to worry about me.”

Wrath gave her a nod, walking to the exit of the den, her horns scraping the top of the arch like they did before. Sangura’s horns passed by with ample space above. As she began her journey back to her herd outside of the Ashlands, Wrath spoke up.

“I have one more question, Sangura.” Her daughter turned around to face her, “Are you happy living with a herd?”

“I think I am, yes.”

Wrath gave her another nod, before the two parted ways.