Fweee! Req!
Just short of a month. That was how long the child had spent in Conor’s care, or more accurately in the care of Dahlia de Mai. Dahlia was not a neglectful keeper; it kept her safe and fed, just as the ghostly grandmother who had brought here promised it would. There was also ample opportunity for learning and interacting with others, but Nayru had been reclusive. Sometimes she would talk with Conor, but aside from him and the children that resided with him she did not speak to many others. There had been a few chance encounters, but Nayru had fallen into the habit of turning tail and hiding when scent or sound alerted her that another might be near. Like a wraith she vanished into the underbrush, her breath so soft that one would imagine it did not come at all; they all passed eventually and Nayru continued on with her day unnoticed and rarely thought of. She was a living ghost; among them but separate and she saw no reason at most times for it to be any other way. Dahlia de Mai allowed this, for whatever reason the pack as a whole did not insist upon her presence, it was content to know the child was alive and thriving. And she was.
A full five months had gone into her development and it showed. Childish fat underneath her downy puppy fur was being replaced by lean muscle that propelled her forward in leaps and bounds and runs and tumbles. Swiftness was on her side, she could already see that and much of the day Nayru spent just chasing after nothing, full throttled. Sometimes, if it appeared, the black and white shadow would follow a bird or rabbit but they always slipped by her and that was okay. Ever since the bug that had perished beneath her paws she had not killed intentionally. Even if her body grew stronger by the day, her heart was soft. Only in dreams did she see the white lady anymore, and though the lady told her that one day her fangs must take the life of many creatures, she was only a dream lady and Nayru did not always heed her advice in the waking world. Still Nayru was clever, if naive about the world. Or perhaps not naive, but optimistic, which at times were nearly identical. This did not bother her, she had not yet felt the sting of unhappiness in her short life, it was only unadulterated joy as she raced through her new home, daily becoming more experienced and skilled.
It was during one of these free wheeling frolics that Nayru first saw the black women. She was visually, in everyway, the opposite of the white lady. The reality of dusk to the trance of dawn. Yet as Nayru watched the death dance between the women and the rabbit she could tell they possessed the same energy. Or similar at least. It was power and beauty. They had authority and influence, over her if no one else. As she had known with the white lady, it was these types of souls that reigned supreme in the world and Nayru knew that it was in her best interest to attach herself, or in the very least introduce herself. These women, strong souls and intelligent minds, came from the same cloth, and it was perhaps this cloth that the universal energy had cut Nayru’s shape, or so she hoped on some unknown level to herself. Yet it was this energy emitting from the women that made Nayru’s legs shake and her soft, fawn like voice quiver when she finally came close enough to speak.
You are very beautiful. That was it. What more was there to say to this creature?
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