"Vinati!" a deep, masculine voice called; the girl whirled around, narrowly avoiding tripping over her own hooves.  At a mere month old, her legs were long and lanky, and she lacked the grace of her older siblings or her parents.  Even so, her coordination (or lack thereof) was rarely cause for irritation.  If anything, it seemed to bring the adults that surrounded her a great deal of amusement, which made the little princess pleased and embarrassed in turn.  Just now she found it most prudent to ignore her unsightly stumbling, bounding the last few steps to her rapidly approaching father with delight.  "Ave!"

Vinati adored her father.  He was strong, a bulwark in the face of any that might harm their family or their herd.  He was passionate, striving for brilliance in his efforts as Sultan.  He was her beloved father, her ave; he was fire itself, embraced and emblazoned by the God of the Sun.  The zephyr that accompanied him trilled a cheerful greeting, flying in arcs and loops that never failed to elicit a squealing laugh from the child; the snake in his antlers hissed a hello, earning her own grin.  Just as her father was her favorite (don't tell Mother), so, too, were his companions.  They were always just as pleased to see her as she was to see them.

The girl pranced in place as he lowered his head to a level even with hers, nuzzling his outstretched muzzle eagerly with her own tiny, delicate nose.  She wrinkled her nose slightly at the sweat lingering upon his hide but discarded her disgust displeasure with a mental shrug.  It was hot, as he said - they were both covered in sweat, though she had been spared the worst by the shade of the oasis.  Vinati had always been intrigued by the bone that her sire wore piercing his nose, and today was no exception.  She was distracted for a moment by its smooth surface, the creamy color gleaming slightly in the sun.  One day, perhaps, she would ask him how he got it and where she could get one so that she could be just like him.  For now, however, she had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Ave," she said again, her voice dropping conspiratorially.  "Anha ray azho ha shafka."  She pronounced the words carefully, having implored her mother to practice the sentence with her the day before.  Like the other children of the WildFire and the Transcended, Vinati was learning both the common Helovian tongue and the more guttural language of Gaucho's homeland.  Though she preferred the more sophisticated language of their current residence, she was proud to show her father that she cared about his history, too.  Returning to the common tongue, she grinned, adding in a singsong voice: "And it's preeeeeettyyyyyy!"


Anha ray azho ha shafka. :: I have a gift for you.

Vinati's heart swelled with pride as she noticed how her words had pleased her father. She remembered how she had begged her mother for assistance the day before, the bemused expression as Sohalia had carefully instructed her in the proper pronunciation of the words. Gaucho's tongue was not like the Helovian language. It was harsher, more guttural, less refined. The child had difficulty shaping her mouth to form the sounds that were required of her. At the end of her lesson (which had taken several hours), she remembered the glee that she had felt as she had anticipated showing her ave what she had learned. She had not been disappointed!

At the stallion's surprised query, the girl giggled and nodded enthusiastically. For him, she had crafted her first ever gift. It had come to her on a whim, one morning: of the items her father possessed, none of them had been carefully created by a daughter. As far as the girl knew, she was the only one of the many children that Gaucho had sired to have inherited Sohalia's crystal magic. It was her duty (and her pleasure) to provide him with something pretty! Of course, he was her favorite horse in the whole wide world. That in and of itself was more than enough inspiration.

Vinati giggled again at her father's compliment, prancing happily in place. Then, she whirled around and began to lead the stallion towards a particularly tall palm tree. "Come on!" she half-shrieked over her shoulder, leaping excitedly towards the base. After carefully moving a frond that she had placed on top of her creation to hide it from prying eyes, the girl picked it up tenderly in her teeth and moved it into the sunlight.

As it turned out, Vinati was naturally gifted when it came to art. Where some children might have drawn stick figures in the sand or encased green leaves within clear crystal, the little sand princess scoffed. That was so boring. What she had made for her father was simple, but there was an intricacy to it that could not be explained. When she crafted, what she saw in her mind's eye was what came to sit before her, and what she had imagined for him was this: a rose bloomed from the ground, carefully designed to be a close match to Sohalia's (though this one was not partially wilted, as hers was). At its base, the crystal was a brilliant red, fading through orange to bright yellow at the tips of its petals. The end result was a flower that appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be on fire.

With a small, satisfied nod, Vinati looked up at her father's face hopefully. Would he like it?

The crystal glinted prettily in the sunlight, casting small glimmers of reds and oranges across the sand at their feet.  The unique thing about Vinati's crafting medium was the way it was formed.  The carefully constructed patterns within the piece sent light scattering every which way.  As the child turned her head this way and that, she was enthralled by the way it made the sunlight dance.  She had made the rose, of course, but (limited in experience as she was), she had not expected the way it reflected and refracted every sliver of luminescence that touched it.  She would be sure to consider such things in the future.

As her father praised her work, Vinati's gaze was drawn back to his face.  She beamed at him, her chest puffed out with pride and her short tail wiggling happily.  "I'm glad that you like it, ave," she told him.  Inwardly, she felt a small release of tension, relieved that he was so pleased with her creation.  Though she had hoped that her gift would please him, it was difficult to really know until it had been delivered.

There was not yet any way for the rose to be attached.  Vinati had not wanted to create something that her father would not wear, nor restrict him to only having it in one particular place.  Still, when he asked her where to place it (when he asked her for her advice), she was prepared.  The girl tilted her head to the side, regarding him almost critically.  She pursed her lips, her gaze turning to his antlers and the dreamcatcher that hung between them.  No, that wasn't strong enough.  The collar that he wore around his neck?  No, her gift would be too easily broken or misplaced, however strong her crystal might be.

With a gentle huff that denoted her quickly ticking mind, the girl turned her attention back to the rose.  Before their eyes, a small comb-like structure began to grow out of the bottom of the rose, tilting it to one side.  To each side of the comb, small loops of crystal appeared.  With some assistance (Vinati thought hopefully of Mara and Vorsa), the comb would be easily placed in the stallion's mane.  The loops would allow either extra mane or a small rope to be threaded through, more firmly attaching the bauble to Gaucho's hair or even to his antlers.

"In your mane!" she told him before reaching to pick up the trinket, holding it up towards him as an invitation.

The stallion's grin filled his daughter with delight.  Gaucho lowered his head expectantly, asking for her help, and she nodded with the rose clasped delicately in her teeth.  She knew that her crystal was quite strong - the structure of it helped with that - but she could not help but handle it with care.  Worry filled her at the thought of her father fighting with the trinket, for though she was confident to a fault in his ability to protect himself, she would hate for her gift to be chipped or cracked in his sparring.

Mara and Vorsa appeared alongside the pair, and the girl was relieved to have their assistance.  She looked over Gaucho's hair carefully, noting the knots and tangles throughout.  In truth, it was probably better that his was not a luxuriously cared for mane, for the comb would have surely slipped right out.  She selected a clump located near his poll and placed the prongs of the trinket firmly in his hair.  After releasing it, she tilted her head from side to side, considering the placement; after a few small adjustments, the little sand princess was satisfied.

"Vorsa?  Mara?" Vinati called.  "Will you please help me?"  She explained, in her childish voice, what she wanted:  a small strand of hair separated from the rest, so that Mara could twist it and, with Vorsa's help, thread it through the loops.  Then, she requested that the pair repeat the process on the other side.  When they were done, strands of hair hung through the loops, and the companions made quick work of tying the trinket in place.  "Thank you," she giggled girlishly as she stepped back.  The rose was now firmly in place in a clump of mane just behind Gaucho's ear.  "Perfect," the girl pronounced.  "You're beautiful, Ave!"

With a squeal of joy, the princess turned to lead the way back to the oasis, looking over her shoulder to be sure that her father was following.  "Look!" she insisted as they neared the water's edge, where Gaucho would be able to see his reflection.  She waded into the shallows, turning to watch him expectantly.  "What do you think?"

Vinati had not, in fact, seen her father's discomfort, too wrapped up in her work (read: in making Gaucho the perfect piece of art) to notice.  When she and his companions finished and the stallion began to lift his head, the girl held her breath; a broad grin broke over her face when the trinket did not fall.  Gaucho's nuzzle was a welcome bit of affection, and the filly giggled happily as she tried to bump her nose against his lowered forehead.  They made their way quickly to the oasis and into the water, where the WildFire began to inspect their handiwork.

As Gaucho twisted his head this way and that, Vinati was pleased to see that the light reflected just as well way up there as it had on the ground.  As the stallion studied it, his daughter watched eagerly for his reaction, fully expecting him to grin and praise her, as he had been doing since the big reveal.  To her surprise and dismay, his face almost seemed to fall, a neutral expression replacing the good cheer that had been present a few moments before.  Was he disappointed?  Did he not like it after all?  Was it not positioned well enough?  Did he want them to take it out?

He turned to her and she tilted her head to the side, her ears flicking back and forth nervously as she awaited his judgment.  Her tiny heart quickened as she considered the possibility that he didn't want her gift after all.  No, she thought, He has to like it.  But her mental confidence was, at best, a bluff.  Gaucho the WildFire was a warrior, and she was all too aware that he most certainly did not have to like the delicate rose ornament.  She was too young to know or care about femininity, but she knew that her father could be hit quite hard in battle, and that her crystal would be unlikely to withstand a direct blow.

Neutrality gave way to a frown.  Vinati stood still, her legs splayed comically and her ears pricked attentively towards her father.  Her eyes grew rounder as her father grew closer.  She was not afraid of him, but of his coming words.

"IS PERFECT," he roared suddenly, causing the filly to jump with surprise.  She squealed as the stallion leaped forward, splashing beads of water all over her before enveloping her in his flaming wings.  She shrieked with laughter, raising onto her back legs to brace her knees against her father's chest, where she would better be able to reach his face.  As he nuzzled her forehead and mane, she snuggled against him happily.  "Anha zhilak yera, ave."


Anha zhilak yera, ave. | I love you, Pa.

Vinati's daily lessons included bits and pieces of Gaucho's language, courtesy of her mother's knowledge that the foreign tongue unified their family.  Though she had not yet progressed very far - even the Helovian language, at times, was difficult for the young girl to master - she had been formally taught several words and phrases, and picked up other conversational pieces simply from interacting with her parents.  And so it was that she understood most of her father's sentence - all but the last few words.  She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a nose wrinkled in confusion.  "What does zee-ah-nah ah-tow mean, Pa?" she asked, carefully and awkwardly pronouncing the words.  After he revealed the definition, the girl's eyes lit with pleasure.  No matter how often her father told her she was beautiful, she never tired of the praise.

Before long, Vinati's legs began to tire, and she reluctantly lowered her forelegs to the water.  Still she remained closely stationed at her father's chest, her cheek resting against him as she listened to his heartbeat.  There was little she loved more in the world than these few stolen moments with her father.  He was the light of her world, the fire that burned brightly to protect her each day.  It was he that she worked tirelessly to impress, longing to earn his pride and his joy.  She treasured the solitude and the affection that they were able to share when she was able to steal him away from his duties as Sultan.

"You gave a rose to Momma," the little sand princess recounted easily upon request.  "A real one. You picked it just for her. She had just told you that she was expecting Zenobia and you gave her a rose.  She used her magic to make it last forever, just like your love, right, Ave?"  She craned her head to look up at him with a sweet, innocent smile.  Even though her father was her favorite, she thought that both of them were wonderful, especially as a pair.  Their relationship, she imagined, must be one of love and bliss.  One day, she hoped that she would find a strong stallion just like her pa; for now, though, she was pleased to have the best parents in the whole entire world.

Again her parent's love enthralled the filly, who giggled sweetly at her father's description of his mate. To her, Sohalia was soft and sweet, loving and affectionate. She had never seen her mother be strong, at least in her limited understanding of the word. Her mother was petite where her father was bulky, eloquent where her father was gruff, peaceful where her father was aggressive. They were complete opposites, but this, in Vinati's mind, was what made them the perfect match.

She longed to ask her father how he had met Sohalia, but the stallion distracted her with a smile. The filly giggled, imagining a garden of roses woven about her mother's neck, each a different color for each of her siblings. She had met very few of them, but she knew their names all the same. Zenobia, the fearless warrior princess; Rhoa and Ivezho, the oldest boys; and Hawke and Aelin, only two years her senior. Half-siblings, too, she had in abundance, though she had yet to be introduced to that particular concept.

A new gift was proposed, and Vinati pranced happily in place, nodding enthusiastically. At her father's request, her tiny brow creased in thought. What would her mother like? She had a rose that she wore on a fine metal chain about her neck, so another rose would be silly. Vinati pursed her lips. What about something to remind her of her family? Something pretty, something that she could wear in her mane, like Ave? Or something to string alongside the rose, to remind her of Gaucho's undying love for her?

No, she decided. It would be a collaboration, so it should reflect both of them.

Tiny eyebrows shot up suddenly, for she had just gotten the most brilliant idea. "She needs something pretty!" Vinati declared. "Like a tee-ah-rah." She pronounced the word carefully, the piece already taking shape in her mind's eye. "Shaped like a vine, with little roses for each of us." Again her tiny chest puffed out proudly. She leaned in conspiratorially. "Your rose will be the biggest!"

"It will take a few days, Ave. I have to take time on each part - the circlet itself, and then each rose," she told him absently, distracted by her plans. She could see it in her mind's eye: a small circlet formed from green crystal, small thorns to be used as a comb to hold the creation in place. The vines themselves would be thin, overlapping and interlacing in an intricate pattern. Around the bottom of each rose would be a bed of crystal leaves to make it look like the flowers were just coming into bloom.

There would be eight roses in total. The clear rose would be representative of Sohalia, brilliant and pure. The dark brown rose would be for Gaucho, tinged at the tips with the faintest traces of blue and red for his markings. Maybe, she thought wickedly, she should put a cream-colored bone through it, just to make sure Momma understood the symbolism! A light grey rose would be for Zenobia, who she had been told was a pretty white dun; Ivezho would be clear with the faintest tinge of orange, like a glowing ember; Rhoa would be black with the same faint hint of fire within; a ghostly silver would represent Hawke, tinged with the teal that Momma had described for his markings; a pretty tan would show Aelin, with light golden specks scattered throughout.

It was a good plan. Vinati nodded to herself with satisfaction. Still, she wanted to be sure that her mother's descriptions of her siblings were accurate so that she could ensure each rose was representative of each child. "Ave," she said suddenly, coming out of her reverie to realize that her father had asked her a question. "What do my siblings look like?" As though to explain, she quickly added, "I want each rose to be each of them. Oh! And how big is Momma's head?"

As Gaucho spoke, the filly tweaked and fixed her mental design.  "Momma's will be clear," she declared, "with white tips.  Pretty and simple, just like her coat!  For you -" she screwed up her nose, again considering him critically.  Very little changed from her original design.  "- the same brown as your coat, with red and blue tips, like your markings."  The girl allowed her father to finish his descriptions before continuing.

"Zenobia will be white with black tips.  Ivezho will be grey with orange inside, like an ember.  Rhoa will be the same grey, but with orange at the tips, like his wings.  Aelin can be hmm, brown but lighter than you, with gold bits inside.  Hawke will be... sort of tannish, with blue tips."  The filly stopped with a happy sigh, pleased with their plan.  "All of those will be on the crown part, the green vines.  All of our family, together!"  She smiled a brilliant grin at him, excited to get started -

But then he told her of more siblings, and she tilted her head to one side.  "She did?" Vinati questioned, confused.  There was a before Gaucho?  What did that even mean?  A small frown appeared on her face as she considered this new information.  "Oh."  How sad for her mother, to be separated from her first twins forever!  It was a foreign concept to the little sand princess, who remained silent for a few moments while trying to understand.  "If they don't live, then where are they?" she asked finally, tilting her head to one side.