Hail to Whatever You Found in the Sunlight that Surrounds you.
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It was there, right in front of her, impossible to ignore. Its tiny wings were fluttering in a feeble attempt to take flight, but something or someone had already damaged them. The poor moth, and it was a big moth, really had no chance. Nayru peered at it with her cherry eyes, eyes that could have been described as the color of blood freshly spilled. Perhaps it would have been an apt description considering the thoughts went through her head, if the eyes could really reflect the inner mind. The child knew that others killed. They had to, it was how they lived. One must take the life of another and feed off of their energy in order to keep surviving themselves. Was that unfair? Nayru had never given it any thought, she only knew that another life had never been lost at her own hands… but there was a first time for everything.
Clumsily, her tiny paws left the earth and with a leap they landed on the doomed moth. A tiny mass of moth guts and wing bits clung to her paw when she lifted it and looked underneath. There it was done. Now what? Nayru paused, her heart beat slowly increasing. Why had she done that? For a moment the image of the white lady passed before her, what would she of thought about that? Nayru didn't wonder what her mother or father would say or think. Day by day they were further from her mind. Conor now was her keeper, but would he have anything to say? Daily he brought her meat, meat that came from the living creatures that inhabited Dahlia alongside her new pack. Why would he care about the moth?
Slowly she peered around, had anyone else seen that? The coast seemed clear though. It was midday, the sun at its highest point and perhaps everyone was out doing whatever it was they did all day. Nayru didn't really know what they did here, having only met Conor, his wards and Bris. The cow patterned pup had kept to herself mostly, too scared and shy to go up to anyone after those first couple of days. They had their own busy lives and it was best to keep out of them, least she disrupt them. As she had just now. Not had she just disrupted the moth, she had extinguished it. The thought struck Nary and unhappiness seized her heart, it was dizzying. I'm so sorry! It came out as a chocked whisper, she could have wept right then if she could reason why she would be weeping.
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Vark walked slowly through the grass, enjoying the feeling of the blades brushing the underside of his paws and in between his toes. A light breeze brushed through his fur, and he paused to savour the feeling. He was back in his Lupus form, thankfully, and he was quite proud of his first intentional shape change. He stretched in a lazy way and settle down in the grass, becoming part of the scenery. Vark especially enjoyed doing this. Rabbits sometimes came close enough to touch, and he just became part of the land and its noises. He slowly drifted deeper into his senses, hearing the grass and the trees rustles slightly in the breeze. He smelt the and leaf’s sap and the ever present unique smell of the Dahlian lands, its dirt, its grass. He heard the birds sing softly to their young ones, he heard a small voice say I’m so sorry…
Vark lifted his head. A scent touched his nose, a small sweet sent of a young pup. He rose and padded over a small rise. The scent grew, and mingled with the lingering scent of his leader, Conor. The young girl had was a member of the Dahlia de Mai, but was knew. He could hear her little heart was beating fast, and she was breathing in short shallow gasps. Vark padded slowly and quietly over to the little girl. "What troubles you, little one?” He said. His tail and ears were lowered, and he hunched to be nearer to the young ones height. "My name is Vark. What’s yours?”
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Hello! I'll be gone for two weeks so no rush on replying!
Her grief was interrupted by the arrival of a pack mate, and it was because of her grief she did not realize his approach as quickly as she should have. Although she was not afraid, for he smelled of Dahlian lands and Conor had told her she needn’t fear the wolves of Dahlia, Nayru didn’t like to be caught off guard. Cherry eyes blinked up with unshed tears at the male, who offered a name rather politely. Vark. The name was one syllable and abrupt sounding. Exciting almost. Maybe Vark would be exciting. At the very least he was friendly.
Still with the bug guts hanging off her petit paw, she raised it up to the hunched over male, so he could see with his own eyes. Her voice was soft and sweet, as if she were whispering secrets. My name is Nayru, she shook her paw a little and off of it fluttered bits of wing, useless now, and I killed it. Her confession caused a second wave of sadness to wash over her, just as intense as the initial one. Her tiny body trembled and she gasped, refusing to be too sad but unable to let it go. Would Vark think her a wicked little creature then? He probably killed too, but that was with purpose. The worse part about her crime was that it had been done without reason. She was at that moment a mindless murderer.
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Vark saw that the pup moved, and he could vaguely make out that she was displaying the underside of her paw. Vark bent towards, and caught the sharp tangy smell of bug guts, and the little pup shook her paw slightly as if trying to rid herself of its remains. Vark groped forward gently, found her paw in his, and carefully scraped the bug off her foot. She trembled, though he wasn’t sure if it was fear or grief, and he lay down beside her, and looked up at her with his blind eyes. Now that he was closer, he could make out the vague colours of black and white, a sort of cow hide pattern on the small pup’s fur. Even through the shroud of blindness, he could make out her vivid bloody coloured eyes. He felt a strong feeling for the little pup, a feeling of attachment, like somehow they were alike. He spoke softly, as if whispering so no one else could here them. "Why did you kill it, Nayru?” he asked, using her name. He sought for something to follow it up with. He had not said it as an accusation, but a small pup could take his tone in the wrong way. "Was it an accident?” He sniffed for the bug and gently scraped its bits into one pile, waiting for the pups answer.
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Nayru blinked up at the male, scooting back a little as he dipped his head closer and spoke. The black and white splattered child had not expected such a question. Admitting that she had killed the bug purely for amusement raised the question of a disregard for life, but lying… well that made her a liar. Nayru had never before thought that lying had been necessary, and she didn’t think she could effectively lie here now, having had no practice before. Besides, killing, in such a world that carnivores lived in was not wrong, not really. How could an act necessary for the continuation of life be wrong?
I wanted to. Nayru spoke very bluntly, and rather remorseful. Cherry eyes sought to understand what Vark would think of that, but even if he thought poorly she couldn’t take it back. The bug was dead and that was irreversible. Perhaps that was the worst part about death. It was so permanent, so final. Unless something came after death, but Nayru hadn’t considered that. I’ve never killed anything before. And it was inevitable, she would have to kill someday, just to eat she would have to kill. Would she have to deal with this moral dilemma at every mealtime? Nayru knew others got past this, she wished to understand what they did.
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Sorry for the wait. A combination of exams and no internet access. >
Vark listened as the little one spoke of how she simply just wanted to kill the little bug. Vark considered her predicament. She was young, very young, and experiencing the truths of the world for the first time. Her emotions weren’t blunted by experience. He considered the situation. She was a girl, for starters, and so stereotypically more caring of the world around her. Secondly, she was sad, almost distraught, by the fact that she had killed a small and innocent creature. "So, what was your reason for bringing about this bugs death?” Vark asked gently, indicating the remains of the bug. "Killing is apart of nature. The stronger must survive off the weaker. It is the cycle of life.” Vark looked at the blur that was the other wolf, struggling with a way to explain the predicament to the little one and to ease her sadness. Vark returned to the bug, intent on solving one issue at a time. "Why did you kill the bug?” He asked, again as gently as possible.
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Nayru’s sorrow was pushed back as Vark asked again a question Nayru had already answered. Why had she killed the bug? There was nothing more than what she already had told him. Her voice took on a more solid tone this time, it grew louder in volume by just a hair, I wanted to. There was nothing behind it except that she had allowed an urge to take over. It was only after the bug was dead that any sort of moral dilemma had set in. Yet Nayru grew uneasy as Vark questioned her again, suddenly she felt that her sadness was private and so composing herself, she decided that a change of subject was in order.
It was only natural for her interest to instantly jump to his eyes. Nayru had noted earlier how they did not focus in directly, they were not bright and clear like other eyes. Yet she didn’t really know why, and it never occurred to her that asking such a direct question might be rude.
What’s wrong with your eyes? Her own bright cherry eyes peered up at him, taking the a liberty then to inspect them closer than normally polite. Yet in her youth it seemed only curious and inquisitive, rather than intrusive.
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