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Ru leaves little room for her expectations – she is making an attempt not to fantasize what the call might bring. And for a moment she is settled between the two supposed warriors amongst her. Perhaps the one she most settles for is Nyx; where rank and experience proceed the mare, and churn Ru’s thoughts into suggestions of practice and future studies. Her gaze rests on the cold, outer infliction of the mare’s face. Expecting the Captain to lead the gathering warriors into direction, to swell and dive with purpose towards one or many goals at once.
And the girl is beginning to loose her hold on expecting nothing. Having grown in a small and quaint, nomadic caravan, the world offered many unexpected surprises. But with the arrival of their Queen, and the lack of bodies that trail and absorb around her – the quiet brings unexpected loss and disappointment. The mighty Edge is but a handful of souls to defend its great lands. Ru ushers a low and worried rumble from the depths of her throat. With a quick glance to Alysanne, from her soft and supple words the girl doubts her capabilities. Scars mark her frame, but the disposition of the Queen strikes the youth at odds with the craft of war and blood shedding. A simple nod is given as an after thought to the Queen’s intentions. Not that it mattered much, because Ru was merely a simple, inexperienced warrior to begin with.
It is with a façade that fades from her previous, beaming eyes, to a swirl of concern and trepid lips that press into a firm line. The one named Ros begins to pace, as if to echo the concern that appears to face every one of them. And the girl’s brows begin to furrow as she confronted Nyx with her words. Ru’s tail quivers from side to side as the Captain offers no solutions, as if agitated by the hollowness provided in those lips. As if some sort of defeat loomed above them, with the uncertainty of a ravenous invasion snapping at their heels.
“Ah-!”
She can’t place what swells up inside her breast. What provokes her forelimb to snap out and stomp the cold-crusted earth in defiance. The feathers against her neck flare, and her eyes reach out to the small, lacking group of warriors amongst her. She extends a wing to Nyx, draws it in before both wings flare out and include the others in a pointed sweep. The youth rears in an attempt to communicate to them. Kicking out her forelimbs together, as if she were in a fight in that moment, driving down to the earth with an imploring chirp.
Teach us! She wanted to say. Let us fight at least… Practice, they all needed practicing, right? They could start something here today; they could inspire their fellows to join them perhaps? But none of that would happen, if they remained as stagnant as their ranks had allowed them to be.
Perhaps the message wasn’t as clear as the girl had hoped it to be. But she darted her gaze to Ros, the youth’s body shifted anxiously in that spot within the snow. Eager for words, for direction, for anything to dismiss their deficiency for something grand that they could hold on to - a hope at least, to start the kindling within their hearts. Or whatever it was that each warrior held to propel him or her onwards into certain doom.
What were they waiting for?
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