’tis fine! No rush if I reply like mad. I have no summer job and school’s out. Too much free time for me.
The woman’s voice matched her perfectly, or at least Nayru believed so. It was not as delicate as Nayru’s, her fairy voice floated so lightly it was as if at times a constant whisper, but neither was it low and masculine. There was beauty in that too, and it seemed to radiate energy, the same energy that seem to pulse from her woad markings and the seemingly pupil-less white orbs that made up her eyes. The energy was that of confidence and comfort, and Nayru felt safe among this woman. Although Nayru knew that logically it was not wise to trust one based on first impressions alone, Nayru gave into the feeling. The cow patterned pup nearly melted in the lady’s voice, almost wishing she could ask her to speak more, just so she could hear it.
When she did speak again Nayru dipped her head low in gratitude, although she knew not where the gesture came from. A dream maybe, the white lady teaching her how to accept gifts with grace. The child had never taken food from anyone but Conor or Vark, and though she always thanked them she never really considered how much effort they put into feeding children that were not their own. Perhaps it was because Nayru had accepted those who lived in the Victorian home with her as family, and that was what family did. Was it the same for any and all pack members? Did they look after their own, or was this a rarer treat? Nayru didn’t know the protocol and only hope she did not embarrass herself.
Thank you. The child peered up with her ruby eyes and tentatively reached out to the kill with her maw. The scent was intoxicating to a hungry child and it did not take much more to convince her to pull some of the meat away from the felled rabbit and set about consuming it. It was still warm, and again the dance of life and death she had witnessed flashed before her, the lady’s fluid movements. She was graceful but lethal, and all at once Nayru was envious. The bug’s life had been taken thoughtlessly, but there had been nothing thoughtless about the rabbit’s death. It was with purpose, and Nayru understood that as it’s meat disappeared down her throat. Pausing in her meal, she pursed her lips, afraid of what silly words might come out of her mouth, but deciding to try anyway. Do you think it had a name? Nayru would have flushed pink at that point, all at once finding it ridiculous to be concerned after she had already eaten a sizable portion of the rabbit’s body. Yet… did it have a name? And more importantly, did others worry about that kind of thing when they hunted? Or would Nayru eventually learn to put it out of her mind, as so many others seemed to do as meal after meal, body after body, was presented to her so that she might feed off their being and continue to live herself.
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