Don’t worry about it, ^w^~
500+
A faint, nearly imperceptible smile moved across her silent lips. As the young boy grasped her, his touch jarring and almost frantic within the woman’s mind, she grasped him in return, her grip tight and secure as if, just as before, she had caught someone who had fallen. And the woad warrior was silent, but she wanted to let him know that she was not going to let go of him, that she would not let him fall. The wild look within those lavender eyes allowed the woman to know the gravity of the situation, or the situation that the boy now experienced. Cwmfen held back a grunt that had threatened to escape. The weight of the boy upon the torn muscles of her neck sparked a familiar pain that moved like a river of fire. And yet, somehow, the warriors mind had transformed the burning into a warmth, and the pain and the cry were rendered silent. In that moment, it was the boy, not she, that required strength, and she would give it to him.
Slowly, the pregnant female took those steps toward the threshold. She walked steadily beside him, still grasping his hand. "All new things," the quiet voice replied, "are strange in the beginning." Carefully, the black fae stepped down, and yet her movements seemed to retain a natural speed and, despite the wounded leg, a natural grace. Turning the woman looked back to the boy, encouraging him to follow while she led. The warrior could help him, could allow him support so that he would not fall. But it was he who must make those steps. Already, the young wolf had done much on his own, and the black fae had watched him struggle with approval. She believed that, without struggle, nothing could be truly worthwhile. Her whole life had been a single struggle, but it had not been without wonders. "Already you have shown great strength," the soft melody sang in encouragement. She did not lie, for the woman did not waste her words with such a thing. But the woman had seen the fear and the uncertainty and the struggle, and already, slowly, he was overcoming it.
The Raven Spear rang sharply in her hands as the fleeting sun was caught upon the blade. And the woman breathed in deeply the cool air. Carefully and slowly, the woad-marked wolf led them into the grass, the plants whispering amiably in their wake. "I felt weird," the alto melody sang suddenly as the voice utilized the words the boy had used, "when I first joined this pack." It had been an unfamiliar thing, then, to be a part of a pack, to feel the security and to no longer be alone. And now, in return, the black fae defended her pack. Just as with the wounded, the black fae spoke occasionally to keep the mind of the other occupied. And perhaps, she thought, being able to relate would allow the boy to see that he was not alone. "Even now, bearing life, I feel weird." A soft, almost sad smile came to her woad-bound maw. "But in the end, we will persist." The fluid movements ceased and the Spear grew silent.