morning time for liiiibri. 702 wc
Sleep was more uncomfortable than usual that night. The heat made her toss, the dreams made her awaken and only when she gave up and slipped out the front door of the Victorian style home was the girl able to find any relief. The white lady whom had been a near nightly visitor had been trying to break through again, but Nayru’s erratic sleep made it impossible for the dream creature to come. The frustration of seeing the familiar face appear and fade as the six month old slipped in and out of sleep was too much to handle in the house. Under the night sky, completely alone in her own head once more, Nayru felt like she could finally breathe. Breathing was her only goal, and so when she felt a safe distance from the house she collapsed into the grass, relishing in the cool greenery that held none of the day’s heat. For a long while Nayru simply concentrated on her own heartbeat, solid again the earthy soil beneath her. She could feel it in every part of her body, the pure energy pulsing through her. Life, that was the beating she felt. It did not concern her until she felt the second heartbeat.


It was only as flicker of energy that did not belong to her, passing through her body. Only a glimmer but it was enough to make the blood colored eyes open and look up, just in time to see the white lady. The placid smile on her face, the serene look in the dark navy eyes, the image was calming, and the fact that the woman who had brought her here, who lived in her dreams was standing in Dahlia de Mai did not phase her. Nayru had felt her. She was gone then and Nayru’s heart was beating harder than ever. Without even questioning why, Nayru pulled herself up on all four paws and broke into a run. And she ran and ran and ran. Her small nose worked furiously, but any faint scent the white lady had left was washed away by the breeze almost immediately, as if it had never existed in the first place. Without any idea of where to go the splotched child just ran. The four paws took her until Nayru’s small heart felt like it would burst if she did not stop, and so once again that night she allowed herself to collapse in a heap, breathing hard. Breathing at least, and not suffocating underneath the dreams that wouldn’t come.


Hours later when the sun threatened to fill the sky with it’s dazzling light, Nayru once more pulled herself up and looked around. This time no face greeted her. She was alone. Sitting there, thinking about the white lady, Nayru let it happen. She was old enough, she could her body was ready, she had been told enough to do it, or so she thought. Nayru watched as her own fur grew in length, and then her limbs, her spine, her fingertips. Everything shifted, grew, changed, and Nayru watched it all with crimson eyes, amazed rather than concerned by the popping and creaking noises her bones made as they realigned themselves in her new skin. There was no pain, just a constant sapping of energy, her bones leeching her strength. When it was over she was eager, standing up and then promptly toppling over. First steps that her parents, and no one else, would ever see.


By the time she made it back to the house the sun had peaked above the horizon, and Nayru was a little more stable on her two feet. It felt strange not to sneak through a open window or push the door with her head and steal out and in like a dog in it’s master’s home. When she opened the door she used a hand, and for a while she stared at it. It was a small had, she was small, a child still, but it was something. Two feet took her to Conor’s door, she didn’t know if he was awake or not but she knocked, and she smiled at the way she had knuckles to rap at the door. "Conor?"

The door opened slowly and Conor’s face peered out, eventually beaming at her. Nayru couldn’t help but smile back at him. There was real warmth and pride radiating from the Alpha male and Nayru was pleased that it was directed at her. For how little she got Conor all to herself, the girl had grown fond of the older male and she wished to please him. Part of her also wished for that attention, the closeness of a family that shared the same quarters. At times she could do without it, staying secluded in her room or out and about, but she always came circling back for that warmth, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Sometimes she wanted to be engulfed in that warmth.


"It is my first time." She bowed her head demurely, proud of herself but also knowing that it was only natural that this was to happen eventually. Still a little unsteady on her two feet and tired from experiencing the shifting process for the first time her balance wavered a little. Nayru worked to right herself with muscles she was not use to using. Bracing a hand against the wall she smiled apologetically up at Conor. "I’m a bit weak from the shifting…" Was that normal? Probably, Nayru didn’t think that her reactions had been abnormal, but she still felt uneasy admitting her lack of strength to an adult who shifted with such ease.

Nayru nodded as Conor explain it was normal to be weak afterwards. Probably her body would grow use to it and she would not feel the effects so acutely with practice. As Conor held the door for her Nayru entered the room, her blood colored eyes sucking in all the details as she always did whenever she was permitted to enter the privacy of others. Of course, Conor didn’t seem the type to hide anything from the others, so Nayru’s quick sweep of the room ended on his face rather than his belongings, a sweet smile still dancing across her lips. Nayru simply stood however, not sure if she should take a seat, and more so not sure that she could take a seat gracefully in her shifted form just yet.


At his question she nodded, a bit sheepishly, for she knew that Conor would have preferred her to spend her nights safely asleep in her own room. Well, she didn’t do it often and nothing had happened to her, or at least nothing bad. Nayru wouldn’t say anything about the white lady, she felt like it was private, something only for her. "I couldn’t sleep." The excuse was true, but perhaps she should have gone to Bris or Conor for comfort rather than the silence and darkness of the nighttime air. "I’m getting older though, I won’t get into any troubles in the night if you’re worried Conor." This too was true, at six months she wasn’t so vulnerable. Nayru was a child still, but one quickly growing towards her adult potential.

394.


Conor was straightforward and kind, and the girl had never found it difficult to talk with him. As he indicated, Nayru took a seat upon the couch, her eyes passing by the titles of books she couldn’t read but one day wished to. Settled she sought the lavender eyes with her bright cherry ones, relieved that Conor seemed only concerned and not angry at her nighttime escapades. They had never been angry with one another, and truthfully, Nayru had never been angry with or angry at anyone in Dahlia de Mai. The cow colored girl was eager to please and pleasing the others she found was not difficult at all. Yet perhaps that was what was so troubling at times, for she wasn’t quite pleased with herself.


At his questions she hesitated. Was everything okay? Speaking of the white woman was out of the question, but what the white woman stood for, well she could confide that in Conor, couldn’t she? Always the white woman was directing her, guiding her, telling her how to act and think and be in her waking life. And she was never satisfied. Perhaps because Nayru was not satisfied. For a long moment she did not say anything, and when she did her voice was soft and searching, as if saying out loud her concerns made them concrete. "I don’t think I’m good enough for Dahlia de Mai, Conor. I don’t think I can give back what you guys have given me."


There it was, so very simple. Perhaps it was just adolescent insecurities, but what skills had she to offer the pack? Sure, she could be silent and thoughtful and polite, but she was never consistent. Too often she fell back into foolishness. She could be cautious and alert, but would put down her guard without a second thought. Reading and writing eluded her and she had no special knowledge to offer them. She could scout borders all day long but she would allow whoever and whatever to come and go as they pleased, if they knew the right things to say. And hunt? She didn’t even think about hunting. And she wanted to fill in all the gaps, become great like she thought Conor or Cwmfen or Bris to be, but she wasn’t them. Not close, she was just Nayru and that wasn’t very much at all.

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Nayru did not believe Conor had any more insight than her. Indeed the girl realized that she was not looking for comfort or reassurance. No, this was a warning. Better Conor know that the girl he had taken in was not capable of very much now rather than later. Yet she had to trust his judgment and defer to him, there was some loyalty that ran deeper than the bonds of guardian and ward went. More than friends. He was her leader, and the only one she had ever had, and he control and orchestrated Dahlia de Mai. Whoever did that had her loyalties. They had her heart. And it was Conor. She would not argue with the male, she couldn’t even if she disagreed, but she would try to reason with him. To warn him.


"I have nothing to offer you. I have no skills that I foresee as being as use to Dahlia de Mai." Perhaps the worry was too old for her young age, or perhaps she judged her developing self far too critically and that was where the youthful indiscretions fit in. Certainly she was on par in the very least with her peers. Yet some part of the fairy child believed she was meant for more than mediocre. It was a lingering belief that the dream lady had instilled in her, although she did not recognize it as such.


"I will try Conor, truly, but I’m incapable of many things and I haven’t found a passion. I don’t have any specialties." And what good was she above any others if she did not have these?

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His words were warm and compassionate, but sincere. Nayru knew that Conor valued her, but did he value her as a member of Dahlia or simply as one of his many wards that he was too kind not to love? If she were to leave Nayru still doubted that it would be a big loss to Dahlia de Mai and for this she was very sorry, even if Conor would grieve her for a time. Yet she could not continue to argue with the leader of Dahlia and so she simply bowed her head in acceptance. She would take the suck the words in, slowly digest them, hopefully believing them in time. For now all the patch work girl could do was mumble in her soft voice words of assent.


"Yes Conor. Thank you." Yet inside there was something that hardened. A sort of resolve. There was room for improvement and Nayru would improve. She would excel. One day she would look Conor in the eye and tell him that now she was worthy, and he would understand how far she had come. Some day. Yet for now she simply stood before him, unsure of what more to do now that he had quelled her insecurities.



"I am devoted to Dahlia de Mai. More than anything else. And I will make you proud of me Conor. Prouder than you are now. I promise." He hadn’t asked for a promise, but once her word was given there was no turning back, and perhaps it was to herself more than anything that she made such a commitment for perfection.