[p] build that city on a hill

Sparrow · 04-27-2012, 06:16 PM

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Spar is putting on her smarty pants. 8B And I didn't even notice the error. [/needs to put on her smarty pants]

Twenty-six was not a bad number; at least it did not sound like one. “I know a little about numbers,” she offered in slight defense to herself, though it was not rallied from the idea that she was offended by the historian. It was more or less just a piece of information to give in case it ever came up down the road of learning. She knew the basics at least, though it was primitive, such as if you had a certain number of berries and you ate so much, you’ll have this much left. The idea of multiplying and dividing or counting to large numbers never came up in the schooling that mother nature taught her, and only the simple mathematics were needed for her to survive when she first turned. Numbers were interesting enough, but whatever attention she had for them were turned back to the words and letters.

Sparrow’s small half-smile grew a little more as Myrika stated that she was near the mark again. The nervous and sensitive air that was usually around her began to shrink back, revealing a slightly confident, curious girl, ready to spell out any word that was to be shot at her, or at least eager to learn from her mistakes. She noticed that the word cot was like dog, having the aww sound; the o made that sound, her mind registering in that information. She also noticed the slight verbal difference in the “c” and “k”, also making sure to take note of that. The “i” in kill was like the one in Myri’s name; the “i” made an “e” sound. The fawn managed to take this all in, deciphering it and memorizing it, her hearing the best aid of all. It was almost like she was built to do this, the learning coming so easily.

She took a moment to think over the two words that the woman gave her. She started with cut—the second letter made her pause for a moment, but with Myri’s words about vowels, decided what it was. Cat was easy enough, taking her a very short moment to figure out. “I think cut is c-u-t,” she spoke, a little tentative about that answer once again, but her next one was more certain, “and cat is c-a-t.”

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