Well if that's love...
Kalm wouldn't speak. He would purr. He would yowl. He would even trill--ridiculous little noises that sounded like he was learning more from the birds in the trees than Elphaba's patient, careful tutelage. But he wouldn't speak. He wouldn't even try. He was old enough, Elphaba knew. She'd lived for a time with a pride of Lions and the cubs had spoken before they'd learned to hunt properly. Even a human child would have been trying out simple sounds: "Mama", "Papa".
But not Kalm. He would play. He would stalk. He would pounce on her skirt hem at the slightest provocation, they were all in tatters now. But Elphaba feared that he had not spoken because he could not speak. She loved Kalm as though he were her own child. Ozma knew she'd never given birth to one of her own. Back in Oz, they'd rescued the Lion Cub and he'd grown up a coward. Here, they had stolen his mind, silenced him as surely as the cage ever would have.
She'd fought the realization for months, becoming ever more withdrawn, ever more determined to find the answer. She spend hours reading. Hours studying. Hours and hours and hours teaching him. Repeating for him simple rhymes and complex poems.
She was alone with the lion when she finally admitted defeat. After giving him a treat and a rub of his belly, she rose, shook out the torn strips of her skirt and walked out of the hut into the forest until she found a rock by the stream where she sat down and began to weep without tears for all that was lost.
[Green lady all in black. For new people, yes, she looks a great deal like Maureen. ST/LT always welcome.]
But not Kalm. He would play. He would stalk. He would pounce on her skirt hem at the slightest provocation, they were all in tatters now. But Elphaba feared that he had not spoken because he could not speak. She loved Kalm as though he were her own child. Ozma knew she'd never given birth to one of her own. Back in Oz, they'd rescued the Lion Cub and he'd grown up a coward. Here, they had stolen his mind, silenced him as surely as the cage ever would have.
She'd fought the realization for months, becoming ever more withdrawn, ever more determined to find the answer. She spend hours reading. Hours studying. Hours and hours and hours teaching him. Repeating for him simple rhymes and complex poems.
She was alone with the lion when she finally admitted defeat. After giving him a treat and a rub of his belly, she rose, shook out the torn strips of her skirt and walked out of the hut into the forest until she found a rock by the stream where she sat down and began to weep without tears for all that was lost.
[Green lady all in black. For new people, yes, she looks a great deal like Maureen. ST/LT always welcome.]