As the sky became a brighter shade of blue, I looked up. The
sun would not be up for a little while, but the first change of colour from
total darkness could be seen. All I could do was wait.
Gradually the first rays of the sun cut the water,
illuminating the depths. It was not yet fully light but still he should be
back. My darling son was not safe, I could feel something was wrong.
As the sky above grew brighter my stomach tightened and I
began to feel sick. Where was my son?
We had spent so many years together here in our simple home.
I thought about all the times we had played together when he was tiny. I
thought about all the years I had put in to him, teaching him how to hunt and
how to be fearless.
Now I could feel the sun’s warmth as it climbed relentlessly
into the sky. The anguish was now unbearable – the feeling that had been a
nagging thought was now impossible to hide from.
I felt I could wait no longer, when I heard that familiar heavy
splash. He was home! I smelt his fur even at a distance, and another taste in
the water, which I refused to accept.
Immediately I could see he was not right. His movements were
confused and awkward. As he drew closer I could see he was followed by a pale
red trail – blood!
At last we faced each other, his eyes were red with tears,
and his face was contorted with pain and anguish. He clutched his shoulder with
his huge hand, blood coursing out between his fingers, making a growing red cloud
beside us. I forced myself to look at his wound, drawing his hand aside – his arm
was gone!
His eyes met mine and finally he spoke, “Mother ...look what
he’s DONE!”
