Butterfly’s Susurrus! 551.

The preparations for her new home were nearly complete. It would be hot in the glass house, but it was only a place to sleep and nothing more. The greenhouse in the enclosed garden at the most eastern edge of the packlands was flawless and already Nayru had begun the ritual of scent marking. It was her’s and no one could deny that, even if she still inhabited the home she shared with Conor. Already she had relocated her one and only book, the encyclopedia of plants, to her new location. Also she had begun to build a bed, a strange construct of her own creation. There had been wooden tables rotting in the greenhouse and with a hammer and saw she had demolished and reassembled them, building a crude but passable doghouse which was set nicely in the corner of the greenhouse. Pine needles and hay lined the floor of it, and slowly she was sanding down the peeling wood. Paint would come later, maybe, but for the present time is was perfect.

The idea of inviting Gideon had come to her, but if the younger boy would want to leave Bris was debatable. She hadn’t even told him yet of her plan to move and the idea of disappoint him was nearly unbearable, but she had to break away. Hopefully the charcoal kid would understand, but Nayru tried not to fret over it. Telling Bris and Conor would be hard, but this too she did not think over. Instead she filled her time with tasks such as training with Saluce, and hunting by herself, though she always envisioned Larkspur watching her whenever she made a kill. Daily she worked on the house, but in the evening she emerged from Veiled Gardens and returned to Wolfville, and to the Victorian house that was home to so many.

In the evenings the thoughts came back, and Nayru hushed them as best as she could. At times she trudged home, unwilling to meet with her found family. Conor and Bris wouldn’t be angry, but she didn’t wish them to think her ungrateful, and it was Gideon that she really didn’t want to hurt. Every night it was harder to return home and there came a night when she couldn’t bring herself to do so at all. Nayru made it as far as the sand shores of Whisper Beach, the wildflowers that edged the sand still in bloom despite the arrival of autumn. And still the butterflies floated above them, like fairies.

Collapsing in a heap among the growth, Nayru curled her legs in under her and exhaled sharply scattering the floating fairies in several directions. Strawberry eyes followed them as the fluttered away and then the girl became still and silent. The sun was near to setting and the gold of the sky caught in the sand and dazzled the whole shoreline. Slowly the butterflies forgot her sudden movements and floated toward her, a statue of charcoal and snow with two blazing rubies for eyes. Abruptly her hand shot out and captured one of the fly bugs, and gently she clasped it, thinking of spiders and rabbits that screamed. Oh, you poor fool! Yet she released it and the butterfly hurried away, leaving Nayru to fall back into the flower patch discontent.

335.

Someone is. The gentle voice answered steadily to the stranger in the dark. Cherry eyes turned up to catch the silhouette of the male, one unknown to her but with the scent of Dahlia and Bris interlaced with his own unique scent. Even before he had spoken his scent and sounds had reached her and Nayru was well prepared to receive the unknown. In her optime form she sat in the sand, allowing the darkness to descend as the butterflies sought their nighttime shelter, debating if perhaps instead of returning home she would stay out here for the night. If less and less she returned to Conor’s house, perhaps her move would be gradual and need no explanation. Perhaps they would understand but not miss her if she became infrequent but not completely absent. Yet before she could decide whether to stay or go the male had come upon her and spoken, diverting her attention to him.

Silently she looked him over, returning the gesture of respect with a deep bow of her own head. It had been a long while since she had come across anyone in Dahlia de Mai she did not at least know of, and so his presence was unexpected but not unwelcome. The dagger crafted by Saluce was strapped to her leg, the anklet Bris had given her helped the leather straps to hold it in place, yet she did not reach for it. Instead she simply surveyed him, and then offered him a half smile and nodded beside her, indicating he could take a seat at will. I am Nayru. Angelic voice floated in the night air and the patch worked girl, almost woman now and half a month from her adult rank, began easily, as if conversation was never a hardship for her. And truly it was not, for her grace and poise had been natural attributes and her voice seemed interested and kind as she questioned the male, already knowing the answer. Are you new to Dahlia?