[j] the nightingale’s her troubadour

Shiloh Dawnbringer · 09-02-2012, 10:15 AM

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Word Count → 429

There was an unbearable span of silence after her howl died down, silence broken only by the rush of blood in her ears as she waited—and waited badly. She fidgeted with strands of her hair, made sure the lily wasn’t in danger of falling out, and played with the pair of necklaces she wore: the flower dangling almost between her breasts, the wooden cat charm sitting just below her collarbone. She held the latter between her fingers for a moment, looking down at its familiar shape and managing a half-smile before footsteps made her stand straight again, her posture pristine but with an edge of wariness gained during her long travels. She adjusted her grip on the staff and stared, and the shape that materialized from the wooded area was unforgettable.

Nearly trembling with restraint, the young woman waited for him to shift before the mottled grey and tawny wolf spoke her name with all the affection of the world and opened his arms. Without hesitation, she released the staff and let it fall to the soft ground before she threw herself at her sibling, flinging her slender arms around him and burying her face against his pale-furred chest.

“Hello, Saul,” Shiloh murmured back, inhaling his familiar scent, the scent of family. The tips of her fingers dug lightly into his skin, feeling the muscles underneath. The last time they’d seen each other they’d been scarcely yearlings, and she could see now that he’d continued to grow up in her absence, even more than she thought he would. There were other smells in his fur, but none were unpleasant, and she didn’t bother to filter through them individually. What was most important was that he was here; she had found him. She swallowed the ball of emotion in her throat and squeezed harder for an instant before withdrawing from his embrace.

“Oh, I missed you so much,” she said needlessly; it was evident in her eyes. “I half didn’t think I’d be able to find you this time.” She smiled faintly then crossed her arms, her shoulders riding up a little. “There’s so much I have to tell you, but—but how are you, Saul?” She wanted to hear that was okay, even if he seemed so strong and indestructible. That he was in a pack was a change, as well as the addition of a strange wooden symbol that hung around his neck like his owl charm. If he was here with more family, as she suspected, then the small colony of Stormbringers was still in trouble.

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