I S R A
“It is good to have an end to journey toward;
but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”Isra would understand that bond.
The wild-folk, children of the Great Mother, carry their diadh-anams inside them, the divine-spark that gives them life and guides them on their intended path. It is a part of their soul that connects them to Her. To lose it would be like dying, worse than dying.
She knew, because she seemed to have lost hers.
Her mind shied away from the thought and tried to push it away into some dark nook. The worst thing of all was there were no answers to her burning questions and the utter lack of warning before it was taken from her. Or did the magic of this land just block her goddess’ connection to one of her children and it would return in force once her business here was concluded? But without it, how would she know when she was called home? She didn’t dare just leave, not without the Great Mother’s blessing, since it was Her guidance that lead her here in the first place.
She swallowed hard and tried to bend her mind toward a more practical preoccupation. A lone equine had to be concerned on where she would be getting his next meal or where she might be spending the night. These woods didn’t boast enough sustenance for permanent stay with all their circulation and even if with all her woodsy knowledge she was able too, repeated bunking might draw some unwanted attention.
If Isra had been feeling more like herself, had been more in tune with her surroundings, she’d have sensed Mirage before she saw her. But this time even the hummed lullaby, poignant and beautiful, failed to catch the mahogany girl’s attention. Even when Mirage had appeared and approached, she turned her head towards the stranger in an achingly slow manner –as if time itself crept by at a snail’s pace. Distant gaze just barely gleaning a kind look about the black mare and guessing that this other meant no harm. That she was being greeted and inquired of, Isra realized several moments after the fact. Not wanting to be rude, her tongue diligently worked to moisten her dry mouth and she swallowed as she fumbled for answers for the stranger. Rose-petal soft lips part to answer but freeze and left to hang open in an "o" as movement draws her gaze upward and follows the golden creatures decent onto its mistress’ back.
“A dragon!” she exclaimed softly, feeling something akin to excitement vaguely stirring in her veins. “They’ve gone extinct in my homelands, hundreds of years ago, but they are still in some of the legends… but they were described being much larger. Is it a baby?” Then she forced herself to hold her tongue, fearing that she would look like a rambling fool. “Well met, I’m Isra” realizing she had yet to greet or answer the stranger. But how could one explain the existence of diadh-anams to folk who had none? And she lacked the words to describe the Great Mother. The Others, a conquering folk with different Gods, invading her homelands. They could be here for days. Deciding to simplify matters, she said simply, “I’m here by my mother’s request.”
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