They return from the forest tired and damp, confused by the things they have witnessed and heard, worn out from the effort of healing the mare. The pair took the long way, reaching the all at the onset of night; all they desire is to rest by the water and settle their thoughts, to dream of sweet nothings and devour cool grass.
So imagine the weight of their ire and shock when on reaching the oasis, they are greeted not by family, but the scent of a predator, the heartbeat of prey. The girl walks into the grass with a sigh, happy her frogs have found freedom from sand. Upon her long back the kitsune sleeps, shadowy form wreathed by glittering sparks. He spent the past hour chasing the things, both children transfixed by this development of magic. So far she finds she cannot affect them, though with straining and thought she is able to bleed more; they follow her, shapeless, a light in the dark. As her brother rests they still remain, blinking in and out of life, providing thin and fickle illumination in deep and cloudless dark.
It is enough.
Natraj smells them first, rising up stiffly on his sister's tall back. Alarm creeps into the lines of his back, black and cream fur standing angry on edge- Cats, he informs her, fear tinting his hate. She pauses then, rigid, crown raised to the breeze, ears tall and alert for the faintest of noise. There, a rustle, barely to her right; she shies away, gasping, eyes wild in the night. They must be nearby, she thinks, though she cannot make out a form: still in the desert, or have they breached through the trees, do they creep even now in the brush at their feet?
Terror plays with the girl's heart, urging her greatly to flee, to escape; but beside it rides courage, and a passionate fire. No, she declares, I won't run, not again. There are lives to protect, names to learn, friends to defend; she is sworn to protect, and will not disappoint. Her mind turns to Cirrus, so recently saved; to Sacre and Kari and Sohalia and others, all those she cares for, those she would never let see her in fear, and she swallows exhaustion, breathes strength in its place.
At her right shoulder a small sun begins to appear, forming informally, glowing and hot. She can feel Lace's magic as it burns at her veins, the heat on her face as it rises, alight. Firechild glows in its cruel burning light, eyes flicking eagerly from movement to stone. On her left her brother now stands on the earth, fire licking eagerly at the end of his tails- I'm ready, he tells her, and she nods her ascent. Let 'em attack us. Let 'em just try.
"We're under attack!"
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