02-19-2009, 06:59 PM
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511.
He had told her his name. But she could not remember. “I don't know,” she replied honestly, eyes shining in amusement. She continued, “because I don't remember,” paused, and: “because it doesn't matter. Not to me. To the children, sometime later I expect they will ask. When they do, I will know.”
She pushed the rest of the snow off the rock.
Perhaps her logic was flawed. Or perhaps she had too much faith in things that could not be determined. Because of them. How they had been conceived: through an act that had nothing to do with love, where neither party thought ahead to what might happened. Where, perhaps, Tayui had been hoping all along something would come as a result of their union.
That she could be greedy.
And want something more.
Because his eyes had been so bright that night, because she (they?) had the stars guiding them on their way to the store. To where she had been given a jewel she could not touch and four more she could.
Because she could trust, even when she had nothing and no one to trust. But it did not bother her. She had what she needed.
A ghost in the system, and angel on the stairs.
Tayui moved from her children to the rock, sweeping the snow off the the rocks with the motion of her arms. Luckily, it had now snowed too much, and the snow was light and fluffy, so it would not take Tayui and Aurèle too long to clear it off. Tayui worked in silence, only glancing up when she heard Aurèle address her. For a moment, Tayui was a little taken aback by how suddenly her sister had posed the question, but realized quickly enough it was not that sudden and that her sister deserved an answer. Tayui wondered, for a moment, if even she knew who the male had been. His name had seemed so irrelevant that night, a fact not worth remembering or knowing. The sky had been dark, but alight with stars, so she knew he was an off-brown wolf, male, fairly handsome. It had been a night of lust and desire. Tayui had been so caught up in that nights events, she was unsure if she could even remember his name. She had not thought of it before, what to call him, since he was not a part of her life. She had taken what she had needed -- unknowingly at that time, of course. She had not realized their night together would result in four beautiful puppies -- and left him soon enough. She had not seen him the next morning, for she had not waited that long. They had remained in the jewelry store only long enough after the act to stare at the things around them. And Tayui had left. She only brought one thing back with her was a reddish gem. She did not know the name of it, but that rock, too, did not need a name. It was a thing, a memory that danced through her mind like everything else did that night. He had told her his name. But she could not remember. “I don't know,” she replied honestly, eyes shining in amusement. She continued, “because I don't remember,” paused, and: “because it doesn't matter. Not to me. To the children, sometime later I expect they will ask. When they do, I will know.”
She pushed the rest of the snow off the rock.
Perhaps her logic was flawed. Or perhaps she had too much faith in things that could not be determined. Because of them. How they had been conceived: through an act that had nothing to do with love, where neither party thought ahead to what might happened. Where, perhaps, Tayui had been hoping all along something would come as a result of their union.
That she could be greedy.
And want something more.
Because his eyes had been so bright that night, because she (they?) had the stars guiding them on their way to the store. To where she had been given a jewel she could not touch and four more she could.
Because she could trust, even when she had nothing and no one to trust. But it did not bother her. She had what she needed.