These moving parts inside of me -
Well, they’ve been shutting down for quite some time
Leaving only rust behind

You were born upon the very bones of a new beginning. You were not meant for the world and yet you came. You came in a rush, an explosion of light, a clap of thunder. You were a force of nature without wanting to be. You were different in such a way that even those close to you would never understand what you would one day become. So you were different, you were special, and you were born.

You would recall this someday when the sun wasn’t quite so blinding and the sand wasn’t quite so blistering. You would recall this when those golden eyes didn’t follow your every spill and your every tumble – and they would follow, those watchful eyes. They would protect you when your mother simply couldn’t and they would find you when the south tried to swallow you whole. 

Even as you pressed onward into the endless hills of gilded heat and rolling sand waves, you knew that the beast would trail shortly behind. Mother would sound out his name to you more than once in the coming weeks, but Ro-mul was merely a set of vowels and consonants that you couldn’t yet grasp. Besides he wasn’t yours, he was only hers, your mother's. Yet, he still followed, keeping a protective hold on you as you wandered and romped.

At times you invited him to join you in your frolicking, but he would simply turn his stern wolfish grimace away from you, likely longing to watch over another maiden with markings too similar to yours. You’d taken after her a great deal, you know.. right down to her eyes, her design, and even part of her disposition. Your mother had given you only the very best parts of herself and you had yet to fully figure that out. Perhaps that was why she sent the wolf to protect you and to keep you from drifting too far from her side—you were quite the drifter after all.

The sun seemed to beat down upon your narrow back as you cavorted throughout the Throat with your head tossed back and your eyes tracing a path through the clouds overhead. Your coat seemed to shine in such a light and across the downy fuzz there glinted a crimson shadow. It would take months before you shed away your youth in exchange for adolescence, but your beauty was obvious just beneath it all. Perhaps you would be just as stunning as your mother or perhaps you would take after your grim and handsome father—it was hard to say.

For a time you paused to harass the white-haired wolf sent to reprimand you and for a time he simply ignored your call to arms. But eventually he grew tired of your antics and turned his back to your blasé conundrums, clearly aware of your intentions. It had become a ritual between the two of you—you pressing him to turn away and he finally obliging— and once you’d achieved your results, you’d fight your way over the dunes toward the ocean.

Sometimes you thought of yourself as an escape artist, a true fiend, until you would later glimpse those golden eyes peering at you dancing amongst the waves. Maybe it was just a game that the two of you played and liked to pretend… because you certainly didn’t fool the wolf and he didn’t fool you. At least not yet. At least not now.


Gyda

Down my arms, a thousand satellites
Suddenly discover signs of life