your father was a priest

Alaine Winters · 03-05-2011, 12:50 AM

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Word Count → 3+ :: table © sie

It appeared that the stranger was somewhat intelligent, for he did not advance, and went so far as to show the protective mother his bare hands. Somewhat mollified by this show of respect, Alaine allowed herself to relax her posture slightly, although emerald eyes remained keen and wary.

The cargo she carried was precious beyond repair, beyond recall, beyond all things. She valued it beyond her own life, and certainly beyond the life of the stranger whose golden eyes looked so similar to those of her daughter.

He smiled warmly at Elijah, and the pup's dreamy blue eyes focused for a minute on the man's handsome young face, a look of young intuition pulling a similar smile across his own slate-freckled maw. But by then Alaine had shifted to mare, just enough to block her son from view. He may have spoken kindly, but as yet he was an unknown, and the fact that his face was familiar to her only served to make the colliewoman more nervous, rather than less so.

Regardless, he had done nothing to arouse her suspicions than to be in the same area that she was, and the Apothecary was not an unfair woman. After another moment of sitting tall on the rotund mare's wide back, her frown lessened, and the lithe creature slipped off of the horse with a rather smooth vault. She moved to stand aside the creature's head, stroking gently at the docile face. "I am Alaine Winters, Apothecary of Cour des Miracles, and a healer of the South." For a long time, she had been the only healer in this area - News had spread to her that there was another who had taken up the practice in the new art-based pack, but she had yet to meet her colleague there.

During this time, something unusual was happening. Elijah, usually the most vacant and listless of the three pups, seemed to have made up his mind on something crucial. At only a month old, his thought process was faulty, but it seemed the blue-eyes boy knew what it was he wanted. He began to whine in an alarmingly high pitch - Alaine responded by retrieving him from the saddlebag, but the antics did not end there. The boy wriggled from his mothers grasp, and made a straight beeline for the one called Ezekiel. Wanting to follow her son but loathe to release the reigns of the mare, for she carted another two pups yet, Alaine watched in anxious resignation as the boy seated himself a small distance from the hybrid. His small face, darkened in a similar pattern to his father, peered innocently at the man.

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