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BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY
She was a desert denizen, found home in the midst of shimmering dunes of gold dust and breathing scrubby air as the smokey smell of fires mixed itself with her own fume. But now it felt like she was an oasis of warmth in this pale coldness that had surrounded her, as if she was supposed to question why the snow that had gathered around her and her companion did not melt from their desert warmth alone. Yet, she remembered, once upon a time the look of snowy plateaus did not mean she was lost. Once, she had called snow her home, too.
The stallion’s companion did not seem to much like the playful activity that Mr. Teatime was inventing on the spot, which looked a lot like an attempt on 'tag'. Maren watched her young tiger companion circle around the kitsune and made sure he was really only playing — which he was, she noted. Otherwise, well, Mr. Teatime would soon crawl back behind her, she was sure. He was still too young to make much of an impression as a fighter. Maren’s gaze crawled back from the pair to the laughing stallion, who’s loud liveliness managed to first widen her eyes, but then started to reflect his grin. “His name is Mr. Teatime,” she informed him. “Normally he is a bit more graceful,” she said with an apologetic shrug, laughing an inexperienced laugh, but still observing the stallion’s expression. Nonetheless she couldn’t help but find him a bit strange, the way his noise had sounded so carefree, so genuinely amused. If this was what laughing was, Maren never really laughed, nor did most others she met — or just not in her company. She did not care to control what was her face, most of the time, anyway — ...But my expression must look rather grumpy next to his. She was a desert dweller, the Diviner for the God of the Sun, yet… She did not warm up hearts, or make grumpy faces smile, was not — bright, like he was.
He probably knows very well how handsome he is, she thought, starting to get slightly annoyed with herself. “My apologies, I just assumed…” She had assumed, because she couldn’t have believed one did not just came here to get lost, for what else was there to do? Was he really just going for a stroll in a place with nothing to see and no paths to comfortably race on? He winked again, which just made Maren’s brains brood and sulk harder. She finally got distracted by his movement and followed where he had pointed. She looked. There was just more white plains, some darker hills, grayed out by a haze. “That must be lonely,” she concluded out loud, sounding neither sympathetic or cold. No wonder he was throwing in all his charms, the only comfort he presumably got was the kitsune and his own reflection greeting him from the icy walls of a cave. (So, not being familiar with the area, she had found herself assuming he was a cavemen.) But soon he turned her own question back to her. With the leftovers of her grin she hiccuped an, for her, unfamiliar, stupid-sounding giggle. “Yeah,” however, the lone word sounded as if it was supposed to be a sentence, waiting to be finished. After a pause she continued with a dreamy look into the distance where he had pointed. “It is quite comforting.” Yet, even though at that moment she had forgotten she knew nothing about him — for some reason she was quite sure it would’ve been more comforting if he had been, too.
At last, her ivory ears folded themselves back to him, her golden eyes squeezed to questioning slits, her voice drawing out the words. “So who are you exactly?” Because now she had finally grown curious enough to ask.
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