300+ Pixie let out a rather hollow laugh. “Oh, I know that all too well,” she said, recalling the night that the name was supposed to (and succeeded in) reminding her of. “And your name certainly fits a tall, chivalrous wolf like yourself.” She’d only heard tales of warriors known as knights, but she imagined them to be brave fellows who’d run their swords through the bad guys and take care of little ones all in the same day. Mostly, Jazper just seemed like a good father to his pups—better than Theodore ever was to Pixie and her siblings, anyways. “If that’s the case, I wouldn’t want to cross their path,” she joked. Glancing back at the pups, she added, “Being short isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I’m used to being towered over all the time, but I’ve learned to live with it. Besides, I’ve got a giant of a horse to ride on that makes up for it.” Pixie could name a ton of reasons why being tall was a bad thing: hitting on low branches and ceilings, having to bend down to reach stuff, looking like a bear…being “petite,” as they called it, was a pain in the ass in its own right, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. The blue-gray wolfess nodded. “Yeah, I think I saw Aro when these three were being born. He seemed like a nice guy, though I didn’t really get a chance to meet him before he left.” At Jazper’s next words, she chuckled and grinned. “See, that’s funny, because both me and my brother were wanderers at heart. But our parents were the stay-put type, and my other siblings were, too. My brother would always joke that we had a mutated gene—I have no clue what that means, but it was probably from some book he read.” Her eyes followed the older wolf as he rested his instrument back on its stand. A violin, it was called? What a strange thing. Who would anyone bother rubbing the strings with a stick when it would be so much easier to just strum them with a pick or one’s own fingers? Such weird things humans did back when they were around. “It’s a very different sound, that’s for sure,” she mused. Maybe that had to do with the instrument’s shape, or the different style of playing it. Whatever the case, Pixie was finding it difficult to recreate the song Jazper had been playing on her own string instrument. It wasn’t like fitting into the melody of Mars Russo’s song that he had played on his guitar; the movements of the violin were so fidgety and restrained, so unlike the guitar that Pixie was already beginning to doubt how similar they were. |
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