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A familiar and delightful rose looped through the trees; her body splendid and moist from snow. She is an unnatural contrast against this pale world. That unique woman looked more suitable for the glow of Birdsong instead of this dead season we called, Frostfall. Golden gaze turned to her, aged by trouble and lacking the same youthful warmth she so easily relinquished. I greet those gentle eyes with a nod of acknowledgement, friendly but formal. Sadly I couldn’t be forced in this moment to change features from their worried disposition as our storyteller continued and the pit in my belly grew to a gaping void.
Drom rehashed her visitation with Earth and explained that it was a mare from Dragon’s Throat that had died in some unnatural way. Plucked from heaven? A young girl? She gave no physical description and though there are many women living in the desert, like all fathers I thought the worst and instantly began to fear that my little Ranjiri had somehow become involved. Frown dipped deeper but I voiced nothing of this concern.
Our storyteller is distraught and fearful, Muriel offers comfort through words and a gentle touch. I watch this exchange quietly; absently tightening ivory and gold appendages against my fleshy barrel, “Ye has done well,” my tone is soft and rewarding, but I didn’t and wouldn’t comfort or chaste her admission of fear,“Muriel speaks truth. Take a moment and find thee resolve.” Hearing such dreaded news was likely that thing that shook her courage. Drom wasn’t some weak thing, neither was the mare which stood close by.
“Aye,” I replied to both girls, “I will muster a clutch of soldiers,” gaze shifted to Muriel, one brow raised as I considered her offer. If my answer was no then the woman would likely travel ahead anyways. At least within my company and that of warriors, she’d stand a greater chance at arriving and returning safely. “Aye,”I said after a pause, “Ye may travel with us.” Attention returned to Drom, “Same to ye.”
In reply to another question Fina came soaring down from the trees. Having listened in through our link and decided to abandon sleep for the sake of another adventure. Her flaming wings warmed the air, creating ripples. Talons collided against my patchwork pelt, sinking gently into flesh.
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Nature would continue to play a part in this fateful day. The egg. Which had been waiting so patiently to reveal the little gift inside was ready to hatch. It gently swayed against the moss and snow, flitting back and forth. Tiny sounds became more urgent with each passing moment. A small hammering sound could be heard from within the shell, as if something was knocking.
I finally caught wind of the noise and glanced down to see the first piece fall away, a small chip that revealed an inner miracle that was fixing to take place. For a second everything was silent, the egg stopped moving and all was quiet. Was it resting? A moment passed and the quiet was vanquished with more knocking and rocking.
Fina touched my mind nervously.
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