560 wc
Whether the smell or the sound of his voice hit her first Naryu couldn’t decide. All the cow patterned pup knew was one moment she was alone and the next she was not. Blood colored eyes opened wide and triangular ears perked as Nayru’s movements stilled. Instantly the girl knew he was not a wolf, nor a dog, and that left very few other options. Nayru tried to remember what others had said about coyotes, their appearance, their personality. His face and tail matched what Liliana had described, but the coloring was all wrong. And certainly his personality was not aligning with the tales she had heard told. Still, she knew, he was a coyote. A month ago, maybe even a few weeks, she would have pointed out the obvious. You are a coyote. Yet now she did not let the words fall from her lips, confident she did not need to double check. No, she just had to be alert.
Again she let her four feet take over, yet they brought her no closer to the man. Instead they carried her in a wide half circle about the man, keeping her big, bright eyes fixated on the stranger all the while. She moved slowly, purposefully, her fairy like body made almost no noise as she tip toed about the man, trying to soak him in a little better. Eventually too much time had elapsed, and despite her slow circling he had not moved or made any hostile gestures. Nayru let a small, easy smile cross her face as she took a few, tentative steps towards the male. I’m not so very small either. She pointed this out, but it was not completely true. Nayru was not so very young, six months, but she retained her child-like features and her stature was small and delicate, making her seem younger than she was. Still, she was a child. Even if her mind was developing into that of an adult’s, her heart was still youthful and would probably never mature into the bitter or jaded metaphorical organ that so many others seemed to possess.
As if fueled by her assertion that she was not as small as he seemed to think Nayru moved closer. When she thought the distance was appropriate (close enough that she could stare into his eyes and pick out any gold flecks that were a bit brighter or paler than the predominate color but far enough that she felt she could probably leap out of reach if he suddenly became hostile) she sat back on her haunches and smiled, no trace of uneasiness on her. Nayru dipped her head and tried to mimic the elegant way she had witnessed Cwmfen do so. My name is Nayru. Lifting her chin again she watched him, eying the smoke that trailed about his head like a halo. As with all interactions she was ready with questions to fire at him. What was that stuff he inhaled like air? What was a freedom fighter? Who was the man? Did he come from Inferni? Were they as bad as some of the Dahlians said? What were those funny things sitting on his face? Why was he draped in cloth? Was he always shifted? In an effort to combine all these thoughts into one she asked a most simplified question. What are you doing?
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