sorry
sorry
I'm terribly sorry
but be merciful with claire, please!
I was with no internet on my father's house. And before I was travelling. I couldn't do this earlier.
*almost crying*
The small femme tried to open her eyes inside the chilling water, but after blinking furiously, she only spotted shadows, blurs and something pale around her head. Claire took it as her mane, as she made some bubbles and wondered what to do next, since she was the only remaining in the creek. Too late, always too late…! The white femme was so ashamed she didn’t know they here having this great ceremony…! If she knew before, she wouldn’t go out, wander in foreign woods. But no, she had to. She couldn’t wait a bit more…
'Seven times' another voice, a soft and kind one echoed in her head, stopping the annoying voice of her consciousness.
Claire smiled, thankfully, closed her eyes, raised her head, took a deep breath and obeyed. Was she so lucky to have a brother to help her…! Even if nobody else could see him, even if she sometimes wondered whether he was real or just an illusion. But his tips and help always saved her in the most troublesome moments. Why not to trust him now?
When Claire was finished, she walked towards the river bank, climbed it, shook the water off her thick fur and paced, still clumsily, to the pile of blankets, took one of the remaining, with which she involved herself, even if she wasn’t so cold as the others seemed to be – in spite of the soft breeze that, altogether with the cold drops in between her fur, gave her the chills -, thanks to her arctic lineage.
When, with the corner of her eye, she heard the chief saying some things, and then heading to the village, Claire felt a knot on her throat, and despair spreading through her body.
Had she missed it?
Had she spoiled it all?
Would she be expelled from the tribe??
Feeling the tears running from her eyes to her cheeks, she darted to the chief, pleading for his attention, praying for not being too late. And staring at her feet, more ashamed than she had ever been, the small femme waited, trembling, tearfully, regretfully, for Dawali’s answer.