Short but not really much to write here.
Word Count → 211
Neela’s hands were held down by her sides in a motion that was both casual and forced at the same time but her nervousness could be clearly seen if one looked closely by the constant tapping of her fingers against her thighs, the collie’s tendency to develop a tic whenever she was nervous shining through even now.
She had honed her skills, sat – or floated as it was – through her night of reflection and retrieved a chunk of fluorite from the old human mine. Not it was time for her to take the vow, to join the brotherhood and dedicate herself to the protection of the week and those who could not protect themselves.
Neela’s fur was still damp from her night sent soaking but the walk up, along with several sessions of shaking along the way, had gone some way towards drying her off and she had combed the worst of the mess down with her claws. She looked far from her best but was hopefully presentable.
All too soon she had reached the war room and was standing outside the door, a solid door of thick wood behind which her leader waited for her. Neela took a deep breath and strode forwards, pushing open the door as she went.
