08-24-2009, 11:49 AM
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"Well," the soft voice replied, and a quiet smile touched her lips so as to reassure him. The wound and weaknesses of her body had healed well beneath his care. When she had returned to Dahlia, only the tenderness and soreness had remained. And now, only the deep wound grew aggravated at times. The power of Brennt’s jaws had wounded her severely—she had felt his teeth upon the bone. It had been one of the most painful wounds that she had received within her lifetime. The warrior was simply relieved that he had not broken that bone and that he had not made her lame. Such things would have lessened her prowess upon the battlefield, and that would have been one that that she would not have suffered. Purposeless, one must die, unable to exist. But such things had not come to pass, and she had not died. She could live another day to fight another battle and die another death. "The wound grows uncomfortable after a shift, but it soon dissipate,." the alto explained. She had felt it before when her body had shifted after she had birthed the twins. But then, and even now, the discomfort of that wound fell silent.
The white orbs seemed to glow in the half-light of the woods as she turned her gaze from the twins to Onus. "Perhaps they are just curious about you." They were curious about all things, even things that seemed commonplace, and they explored through the sense of touch. While curiosity was a natural thing within wolves and thus herself, her curiosity had never been as strong as that of their pups. And so it did not surprise the black fae that they would be curious of Onus. She was glad, too, that they were not fearful of him, for fear was another strong emotion within the young creatures. It meant that the pups knew him and so loved him too. Indeed, Chastity’s delight spoke of such a thing. The bi-coloured eyes of the twins continued to look up at Onus, the intensity of the expectant, curious gazes almost unnatural. They blinked slowly as they tried to understand what was being said, listening to the sound of the voice that was so different from that of their mother’s.
Onus watched her silently and Cwmfen returned his gaze. She smiled lightly but was silent. Once and twice she had told him that she was not pure, and he had responded that no creature was. And while Onus knew the darkness that lurked within the hearts of all creatures, of the wrongs and the crimes that such creatures could commit, she did not think that he would suffer it within her. It was not fear of herself that kept her silent but fear for him. With the coyote, she always felt so vulnerable. And while such a thing was almost exhilarating because of its rarity, now, within this inner conflict Cwmfen felt the unfamiliar pang of guilt as if she was a cause of a pain that he could come to endure because of her. And so, to keep it from him, she was silent. And her silence was kept not as a secret but as a thing with which she now struggled to purge.
At his words, the black fae was content. It was not as if she believed that the gods could change the seed that had been planted within her, but she believed that they had ordained who it was that shall have planted it. And she was glad of the gift of the gods because it had not caused her to betray Onus in the bearing of life that did not belong to him. A soft smile graced her maw. She sat up, no longer leaning back against the grass and earth. Almost tentatively, she reached out to him, her fingers brushing against his jaw. "You will never be the cause of their suffering," the alto melody sang, her voice dancing like the golden leaves of autumn upon the warm summer air. No, Onus would never be the cause. The responsible would be the attacker themselves. Blame simply could not be extended. "And they will understand that what we are compelled to do is dangerous. They will understand what comes with such a thing." That one of us may not come home one day. The warrior understood and was content. Death was always at her heels—it was the glory and doom of warriors. And even with these lives new, she would not have regretted dying. Within the safety of the pack, they would have grown well even without her care.
"Well," the soft voice replied, and a quiet smile touched her lips so as to reassure him. The wound and weaknesses of her body had healed well beneath his care. When she had returned to Dahlia, only the tenderness and soreness had remained. And now, only the deep wound grew aggravated at times. The power of Brennt’s jaws had wounded her severely—she had felt his teeth upon the bone. It had been one of the most painful wounds that she had received within her lifetime. The warrior was simply relieved that he had not broken that bone and that he had not made her lame. Such things would have lessened her prowess upon the battlefield, and that would have been one that that she would not have suffered. Purposeless, one must die, unable to exist. But such things had not come to pass, and she had not died. She could live another day to fight another battle and die another death. "The wound grows uncomfortable after a shift, but it soon dissipate,." the alto explained. She had felt it before when her body had shifted after she had birthed the twins. But then, and even now, the discomfort of that wound fell silent.
The white orbs seemed to glow in the half-light of the woods as she turned her gaze from the twins to Onus. "Perhaps they are just curious about you." They were curious about all things, even things that seemed commonplace, and they explored through the sense of touch. While curiosity was a natural thing within wolves and thus herself, her curiosity had never been as strong as that of their pups. And so it did not surprise the black fae that they would be curious of Onus. She was glad, too, that they were not fearful of him, for fear was another strong emotion within the young creatures. It meant that the pups knew him and so loved him too. Indeed, Chastity’s delight spoke of such a thing. The bi-coloured eyes of the twins continued to look up at Onus, the intensity of the expectant, curious gazes almost unnatural. They blinked slowly as they tried to understand what was being said, listening to the sound of the voice that was so different from that of their mother’s.
Onus watched her silently and Cwmfen returned his gaze. She smiled lightly but was silent. Once and twice she had told him that she was not pure, and he had responded that no creature was. And while Onus knew the darkness that lurked within the hearts of all creatures, of the wrongs and the crimes that such creatures could commit, she did not think that he would suffer it within her. It was not fear of herself that kept her silent but fear for him. With the coyote, she always felt so vulnerable. And while such a thing was almost exhilarating because of its rarity, now, within this inner conflict Cwmfen felt the unfamiliar pang of guilt as if she was a cause of a pain that he could come to endure because of her. And so, to keep it from him, she was silent. And her silence was kept not as a secret but as a thing with which she now struggled to purge.
At his words, the black fae was content. It was not as if she believed that the gods could change the seed that had been planted within her, but she believed that they had ordained who it was that shall have planted it. And she was glad of the gift of the gods because it had not caused her to betray Onus in the bearing of life that did not belong to him. A soft smile graced her maw. She sat up, no longer leaning back against the grass and earth. Almost tentatively, she reached out to him, her fingers brushing against his jaw. "You will never be the cause of their suffering," the alto melody sang, her voice dancing like the golden leaves of autumn upon the warm summer air. No, Onus would never be the cause. The responsible would be the attacker themselves. Blame simply could not be extended. "And they will understand that what we are compelled to do is dangerous. They will understand what comes with such a thing." That one of us may not come home one day. The warrior understood and was content. Death was always at her heels—it was the glory and doom of warriors. And even with these lives new, she would not have regretted dying. Within the safety of the pack, they would have grown well even without her care.