03-09-2009, 11:21 PM
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Even as he explained to her why he was gone from his tribe, she still wondered what exactly it was. It didn't seem as if he had gotten lost, more like wandered away meant that he had run away, but it wasn't anything that she could be sure of. Stories were important, she knew. Knowing them and carrying them were just as important, but she couldn't help but wonder if they had ever stopped a moment to think that it might be cruel to carry them in such a way. "And you didn't want to add a new story?" Her question seemed passive, innocent, but she truly wanted to know if it was his opposition to adding a story that made him wander away from his tribe.
"We have stories also." She explained, lifting a leg so that the dark red markings that laced her black fur could be seen. "We all carry our stories here, with paint and dye on our fur." They weren't so unlike his tribe, at least in some ways. She wanted to comfort him, to coddle him like a child and feel angry for him, but he seemed so distant, she didn't know how he felt. The motherly instinct of an aging woman, perhaps. "If you would like, Mahlouk, you and Boo can live here." She nodded her head at that, feeling as if she didn't need to hear much more from him to know that he was meant to stay with them. "What is it that you like to do Mahlouk? Do you like your stories, or something else?"
Even as he explained to her why he was gone from his tribe, she still wondered what exactly it was. It didn't seem as if he had gotten lost, more like wandered away meant that he had run away, but it wasn't anything that she could be sure of. Stories were important, she knew. Knowing them and carrying them were just as important, but she couldn't help but wonder if they had ever stopped a moment to think that it might be cruel to carry them in such a way. "And you didn't want to add a new story?" Her question seemed passive, innocent, but she truly wanted to know if it was his opposition to adding a story that made him wander away from his tribe.
"We have stories also." She explained, lifting a leg so that the dark red markings that laced her black fur could be seen. "We all carry our stories here, with paint and dye on our fur." They weren't so unlike his tribe, at least in some ways. She wanted to comfort him, to coddle him like a child and feel angry for him, but he seemed so distant, she didn't know how he felt. The motherly instinct of an aging woman, perhaps. "If you would like, Mahlouk, you and Boo can live here." She nodded her head at that, feeling as if she didn't need to hear much more from him to know that he was meant to stay with them. "What is it that you like to do Mahlouk? Do you like your stories, or something else?"