There was a small amount of magic in the paints, but one had to know how they worked. It would not just happen. The elements need to be known, and for what she showed the pup, the color wheel was essential. The young woman felt a certain pride in the things she was teaching Amata. Of course it wasn’t hunting, not something that would provide for her or the pack, but one did not live on meat alone. Art fed the soul, it taught one patience mystery and magic. And it slowly taught the Church girl to love. To have faith in something that she held within and could not see. “A beautiful shade.” She commented simply. She had once tried to explain the magic of the world her this ones brother, and Mati decided not to try to explain things that she didn’t understand completely.
Watching as the pup took her direction Mati found that Amata was talented. Though she never had, Mati didn’t think that at her age she would produce something that certainly did look like the intention of the creator. “That looks great Amata!”, she spoke as she looked at the now paint splattered paper. All the pieces were there, and the pale Savina and Kansas child had done well with holding the image and placing it on the paper. No brush, no true hesitation. It was inspiring.
“Its looks so real, I could pluck it right off the paper.” Mati said as she made a small action that mimicked the pick if a delicate flower. A smile was worn on her face, and she reached for another clean sheet. “You can paint anything, you know.” the words came as she set the two wolves up with fresh paint they could share. “this picture will have lost of things. A memory of a day I spent with Gotham.” Mati explained, as she dipped her hand into the paint and began to apply the paint with her fingers. The shape of the small wolf began to form from rough uneven lines. Maybe brushes were over rated. Perhaps it was time to return to the way painting actually began.
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