463 wc
Nayru would have colored at the kindly rebuke, because she realized that Razekiel was right. There was no rush. None. They had all day, and even after that Nayru had the rest of her life to ask questions. Conor did not rush. Bris did not rush. And certainly Cwmfen did not rush. Nayru pictured the serene, calm lady and then looked again over Razekiel, the sharp contrast between the two souls. Yet neither of them rushed. Nayru would have to be more careful not to rush in the future, all in good time was what her father had always said and the girl knew that it was true. Everything would happen in good time and if Nayru did not expend her energy trying to hurry life along she would be all the more ready and fresh to face whatever came her way. Nayru would have taken a moment to be embarrassed by her hasty questions if the coyote didn’t move on to more important matters, such as the answers to her infinite questions.
Marijuana? The word registered in her brain but most of Razekiel’s explanation was lost on her. Lifesaving? Was it medicinal in some manner? Nayru knew that herbs and such could be used to treat illness and wounds, but she had only ever heard of making them into teas or tinctures or ingested, never smoked. Yet Nayru knew so very little about herbs and medicines that perhaps this was quite ordinary. Or maybe the smoke was the cause of the man’s disjointed words, spacey and spoken as if he was somewhere far away rather than right in front of her.
Yet for all that the explanation did not help her, there was the opportunity for her to find out first hand. Before she knew what was happening both the smoldering plant matter and glass eye coverings were thrust toward her and Nayru stared at the wonderingly. Hesitantly she sniffed at the joint, the smoke rushing up her nose and causing her to wheeze and choke. Turning her head from it and inhaling fresh air, she turned cherry eyes back to the male, glasses and joint still held out. In her lupus form she couldn’t do much but jut out her head, allowing the glasses to be placed upon her snout. The strange tint that they gave to everything only seemed to fit her mood now, and she smiled shyly up at the man. I feel very silly. Yet she was a child and allowed to indulge in silliness and so Nayru simply wagged her tail to indicate that being silly was okay, for now. Again she looked at the joint and sniffed it hesitantly, prepped this time for the rush of unpleasant smoke entering her nostrils. She didn’t gag this time.
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