Pssh, your posts are always good, no apologizing!
Playing the part of dutiful pupil Nayru took in Cwmfen’s words, never interrupting the raven warrior although the question welled up inside of her. Running from what? Protection from what? Why would Dahlia need protection? A small twinge of dread tried to work its way up from Nayru’s stomach, but she quickly swallowed it back down. The child felt safe in Dahlia, and with Conor. Even if those feelings were false, Nayru knew on some level that to live in fear was not really to live. Nayru did not enjoy the brief glimpses of fear she had felt throughout her life, and so she forced herself to avoid needless worry. There would be time enough when something actually went wrong and even then Nayru did not know that fear was a useful emotion. Perhaps, like everything else, it had its place, but even now Nayru was learning to control her emotions. She was clumsy at it and often times the emotions slipped out or she forgot not to feel something, but the mottled pup was in more control of herself than many adults, even if she did not realize it.
It took the patience of a saint to not ask the barrage of questions that were on the tip of her tongue. Although Cwmfen had been completely honest, it occurred to Nayru to not abuse such a privilege, to have a knowledgeable adult so at her disposal. Had she been only a few months older she could have walked away without asking anything more, but as it was her youth got the better of her and shyly Nayru decided to ask the one question that seemed more important than the rest. Dahlia she could learn about in time, she was not going anywhere, but Cwmfen might. Nothing and no one was solid but herself, and so she had to always be prepared for them to disappear. What were you running from? It was essential to know more about the mysterious women, to try to and learn everything she knew. Nayru wanted to capture the energy that emitted from Cwmfen, wanted to make it her own.
When Cwmfen guessed at Nayru’s own background, the child dipped her head and averted her eyes shyly, embarrassed to correct someone older or wiser than herself. I was not born here. Nayru looked back to Cwmfen to see how she would take the news, and easily she continued on with her story. It was not extraordinary, it wasn’t interesting, but it was the truth. The white lady brought me here, she said this is my place. It did not occur to Nayru to clarify who the white lady was, because Nayru wasn’t sure herself and so she hurried on to answer Cwmfen’s other question in her sweet voice. I like Dahlia de Mai very much, but I don’t know what I am suppose to do here. Nayru admitted it openly, the dilemma that usually didn’t set in under later in life. Despite having no solid purpose, she was happy, healthy and learning. When a life role finally arose, she would fill it, and until then continue to prepare for such a role, prepare to fill all the potential her small body contained.
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