Anything for a Smile

Nayru · 12-07-2011, 12:00 AM

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Nayru grew more round by the day, and yet not obscenely so. Half way to whatever fate lay before her, the Lady knew that her girth would only increase until that time came. And still she thought not of it, having dismissed each knowing glance as more and more eyes caught onto her secret. Words she hushed and shook her head to the thoughts she knew grew in the minds of the others. Soon enough the truth would come in a flood, a tidal wave of afterbirth, but until that day Nayru moved forward and never looked back. Did not wonder how it happened, she knew and chose to forget. Did not ponder if there might have been a way around her state--that was not the way of the Ichikans. And so, simply she waited for what was inevitable without really waiting. Without acknowledging that anything was to come.

Nayru moved forward, in whichever direction forward was, and today it was through the tall grasses of the fields. In some places, where they allowed the cattle to come down from the Ranch and graze on the growth of Mother Earth, the grains grew shorter, and it was in one of these depressions she found herself. Walking was more tiring now, and though the sickness that had overtook her had subsided for the most part, she found that any amount of nourishment was never enough. The Jiryu had gotten in the habit of carrying with her the long stripes of smoked meat she had stored, in case a winter storm blew in again, and she was slowly chewing this when the voice on the winds reached her.

The message was not to her, she knew this, but to something greater. The voice she recognized as the warrior of Ichika, the highest ranking warrior at that. The urge that grew in her was a primal one, a throwback to times when the voices of the wolves were more abundant on the winds than in each other's ears, before they grew opposable thumbs and adapted such a humanistic way of life. Throwing her own head back, opening her lips to the snow that fell upon them, Nayru knew not why she cried out but she cried out all the same, to something greater than herself.

I wait for the day when Fate delivers me to what I am meant for. Come this year, this month, this night to me, White Lady, and remind me of purpose. Remind me of why we suffer and love. Remind me of myself. And with her cry the strength was sucked from her and the lady crumpled in on herself, smiling bitterly as the snowflakes fell around her, trying to count them and finding herself growing dizzy as the numbers increased.

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