[p] in her was found the blood of prophets

Alma · 09-14-2012, 03:13 PM

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In the darkness of her den, Alma was pleased. Elated, almost. She was on her back, resting on a pile of tattered furs. Her feet were propped against one another and her head was resting on her crossed arms. It had never occured to her, when she started her journey away from home, that she would find such happiness in the world. She hoped, in between thoughts of survival, but did not dwell on that emotion; she could not bring herself to think seriously of such a thing when it was so unlikely.

To Alma, the courtship had not been rushed at all; but the only example she had to go by was her parents and she had thought they had taken longer because her mother, Ivy, was afraid of her pack's reaction to a coyote mate. Alma reflected on the two different relationships, and what she knew of her parents, and wondered if there might be parallels between them.

As if hearing her thoughts, Alma felt her mother's presence with her. There was a silence - almost like a thoughtful pause, before the ghost spoke.

"You are happy." It was said in such a way that she could not determine if it was a statement or question, but she chose to take it as the latter.

"Yes." Alma answered. "I have..." She tried to think of how she would explain Ithiel and condense their interactions into something suitable for her mother's incorporeal ears. "I've met someone. He's - we - we're mates now." She stammered. This was not a conversation she expected to have when she headed out on her own; she didn't think she'd still have to explain herself to her mother when she left. I don't need her approval, Alma reminded herself.

"The dark one with the vulture?" Her mother asked. A little spark of light, like a firefly, hovered above the orange coyote.

"Yes. His name is Ithiel. He is polite, well-mannered and..." She almost said adorable, but that feeling was tied to things she would rather not discuss with her mother.

Abruptly, Alma changed her focus. "You know him? Recognize him?" It seemed so unlikely that her mother would just happen to meet her mate before dying; there had to be another explanation for it. Her mother had not talked to her or shown her presence in a while, but that didn't mean she wasn't paying attention... "Have you been watching me?"

"Yes."

A disconcerting thought entered her head. The ghost of a frown appeared on her snout. "How much have you been watching me?"

"Enough to be sure you are safe and aren't running headfirst into trouble.

An awkward silence stretched out between them. A question hung in the air, but it was one Alma dared not ask.

Finally, her mother's voice broke the spell. "Don't worry," she was cheerful, almost amused. "I wasn't watching; I left when you two kissed."

If Alma were capable of blushing beneath her orange fur, she would have. Instead, all that happened was a twitch of her ears. "Mom," She said sternly, "Don't watch any of my interactions with Ithiel. In fact, just make yourself disappear when you see me with him. Go about your ghostly business somewhere else."

Laughter echoed in her ears, real as anything she'd heard. When it died down, her mother spoke with a smile that Alma could almost visualize. "I assure you, I have no desire to see a man fondle my daughter; no matter how kind." A pause. "Speaking of which, I must leave. We'll talk later. The light floating above her snout extinguished itself, and Alma felt the presence fade from her mind. It was so quick that she almost thought her mother was as embarrassed as she was.

Then she heard a familiar voice - Ithiel's voice - calling for her outside. She had to wonder whether her mother had known, and therefore left or whether it was just a coincidence.

She decided it didn't matter; she didn't want to think about that awkward conversation. any longer. She stood up and exited her cave, greeting Ithiel with a smile. "Hello." She was still a little flustered, but tried to show it, so he wouldn't think it was the result of his presence.

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