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Summary
‘Ma?’
She can say it now, but it is not right. It sits sullen on her tongue and tastes similar to soot. She does not have that, she does not have a ‘Ma’, she has only the remnants of one. Within her eyes and nose and skin, that word lives, upturning her veins like soil and rust. Peeling away layers as if it is trying to tear itself out.Cass wishes for it, still, even if it is futile. She wishes for it even when the branches bang outside and she is too terrified to wish for anything at all.
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Or, a small fic about Cass and what the word ‘Ma’ or ‘mother’ means to her.