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The sky above was clear and welcoming, but the little bird did not leave the gray wolf's head. She merely sat, little talons pressed into his skin, and occasionally commented on a passing crow (conniving beasts) or the brightness of the sun. The Spirit Guide seemed to cycle through periods of extensive silence followed by constant jabbering, and at the moment she seemed to be transitioning out of a quiet spell. Occasionally, Hemming would feel her weight shift a bit as she unfolded and refolded her wings, but for the most part he was getting used to having her constantly between his ears. The absence of that weight was less familiar than its presence, now.
They voyaged, as Hemming was prone to do, and the male was quite pleased to have company. The lands they passed through were wondrous, and he had a constant companion to marvel with. She, however, was much less of a romantic than he was, and would eventually become bored of his awed ramblings. The wolf understood; after years of haunting the lands, a single beautiful day might not stir one's emotions as it used to. He had not asked Dagrun how old she was, yet, but knew that the souls of the animals that manifested themselves as one's Spirit Guide could be as old as life itself. It was a phenomenal concept, that the tiny flycatcher might have seen so much history unfurl itself.
Maneuvering through the sparse grasses and the tangled shrubs, the wolf's head was free of thoughts. The fresh air of the hills filled his lungs and his only feeling was contentment. Eons could pass in the silence that sat between the last word and the next, and the wolf would not have noticed. After a moment, though, the bird cheeped, "Look," and Hemming let his amber eyes roam until he found what she was thinking of. A butterfly, for the moment perched on the spiky branch of a shrub, raised and lowered her orange wings. The wolf admired its beauty, and the bird was likely evaluating its protein content.
He had stopped in his tracks to stare, and for a moment he stood completely still. When the butterfly lifted itself into the air again and fluttered away, Hemming followed it quietly and carefully. It was easy to see how his walks always turned into long, meandering adventures.
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So sorry for making you wait! I’ve been gone, busy and depressed, argh! Sorry! Is the bird his spirit guide and if so does it show it’s self to Adelaida?
Her travels now outside Dahlia weren’t her fleeing her own home, as in the past that had often been the case. Her strides weren’t long and frantic, her feet senselessly carrying her away in a panic. The petite female had no real direction today, nor did she have any agenda. Her burst of confidence had waned, but it hadn’t been replaced by her previous timid self. A balance had been reached, for the moment, and Adelaida breathed easily. Fear did not grip her senselessly, and yet she was not acting unlike herself. Faintly she could remember this creature, the one she was now, for the previous year. Before the fire and before her father’s death and before all the new faces she had to meet. It had been a long time since she had seen clearly through the eyes of this creature. The sky seemed blue for once, or maybe it had been blue all along and only just now did she have the time to really notice it. It was lovely, simply lovely.
Paw after paw took her south, straight south out of the tiny town of Berwick. The trek through Ethereal Eclipse wasn’t unpleasant, but the thick forest allowed sunlight and blue sky to filter through only a little and Adelaida was relieved to come out the other side of the woods. Arriving in Shiloh Hills she took a moment to pause, turning her face up and closing her eyes. The sun beat warmly upon her mocha fur mask, the heat getting trapped in the dark colors. Any longer and the sensation would have become unpleasant, but as it were Adelaida turned back to her invisible path and continued on wards.
The rolling hills would have grown tiresome if Adelaida did not take such a leisurely pace at conquering them. Up, down, then back up again. It was at the top of one of these hills that Adelaida saw the male, though at a distance, and she changed her course so that momentarily their paths would cross. He seemed small and almost imaginary at such a distance, but when she came to the top of the next hill he looked larger, more real. The next hill brought him closer and larger and when Adelaida came to the bottom of the hill after that they would be there, face to face. And Adelaida would be smiling.
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Oh, don't worry a single bit! The bird is his Spirit Guide, and does show herself. :]
Hemming's amber eyes stayed fixed on the little butterfly as it swooped and fluttered, and he followed it slowly. It was easy to lose a sense of context when one's concentration was focused on such a tiny part of the world, and the wolf almost forgot about the grand hills that surrounded him, pondering instead the curious things about a butterfly. Like, why did they keep their wings erect above them when they stopped, rather than keep them down as did a moth? How could they maintain such an acrobatic lifestyle, what did they eat? How long did they live? Staying a few paces behind for fear of frightening the creature, Hemming tried to get as good a look at it as he could, admiring the gold and black pattern that adorned its wings.
Perhaps it was simply out of luck that an approaching figure caught his eye. He looked up at the smiling wolf and beamed back at her, standing in his place as she drew nearer, and chimed, "Hello!" Upon moving his attention from the butterfly and looking at his surroundings again, he realized how far he had wandered. None of the hills around him now looked familiar, and perhaps they had been the ones shimmering in the distance when he had first spotted the insect. It seemed almost surreal that there was another wolf near to him, the rest of the vast territory so seemingly empty.
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He was there, and rather than the tiny dot she had seen moments before traveling amongst the hills he was life sized and smiling. Smiling. It was a good sign. His voice was louder than she had expected, but it was cheery and her tail waved slowly behind her. “Hello.” Her own voice was soft, mellow, but kind. Almost timid but not quite. It was hard to be boisterous and lively, as Sankor and Alexey could be, but she tried. Trying had to count for something. Adelaida did not notice the butterfly as it floated away from the pair, her eyes were glued to the wolf, taking him in as subtly as she could. His eyes were honey colored and warm, like Alexey’s and this brought comfort to Adelaida. Meeting strangers still required a bit of caution, but Adelaida was finding it easier to place that aside. If something bad was going to happen, she couldn’t stop it, but she could try to keep interactions friendly and smooth.
Slowly her bright eyes moved up to the creature perched betwixt the male’s ears. Adelaida had no way of knowing it wasn’t flesh and blood but rather one of the spirit guides of the strange tribe that had moved in months ago. Instead she associated the creature with Pickles, her’s and Alexey’s own companion. The small rodent hadn’t been following her as much, nor had it been sticking to Alexey, but rather staying in Adelaida’s home in Dahlia de Mai. Though she often missed the little chinchilla she found she didn’t need him nearly as much now as she had when Alexey wouldn’t speak to her. Watching the bird, she found words coming from her mouth before she had a chance to think them over, realizing how childish and silly they sounded only as they reached her own ears. “I have a chinchilla at home.”
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The gray wolf had befriended other small animals before, but it was usually for a very brief period of time. Often, he would find them injured, take care of them for a little while, and then set them free. In the short amount of time that he knew them for, he formed a strong attachment to them. It made it hard for him to watch them fly, or crawl, away. Nonetheless, it was something that the male felt he needed to do, for both his own emotional fulfilment and the sake of the poor animal that had been hurt. He had lived alone for quite a while before he had come to AniWaya, and contact with anything warm always lifted his spirits. Now, Dagrun was with him virtually constantly, and Hemming didn't feel that strong desire for companionship. He enjoyed the presence of others nonetheless, and was quite pleased when his interaction with the female turned to more than just a 'hello' as they passed.
Her statement puzzled him, though, and he tipped his head to the side a little. "What's a chinchilla?" He had seen the other's eyes flip upwards for a moment, but her words seemed to his wandering mind to come out of nowhere. Though Hemming never really felt alone now that his Spirit Guide had found him, he often overlooked that she was there. Even if Dagrun's presence on his head was still something he noticed and was conscious of, the connection between the bird and whatever she was talking about would likely have been lost on him.
The friendly smile that had been on his lips when he greeted her remained as he speculated what something with such an odd name could look like, and what purpose it might have. This meeting was already going well in Hemming's books; he was about to learn something.
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The question surprised her. How rare it was to be on this end of any question, when normally it was her who was asking. Never before had she any knowledge worth sharing and it had seemed that for such a long time she had been adrift in a world she didn’t quite understand. Finally the table had turn and Adelaida let only a short moment of amusement lapse before she spoke out, trying her best to be the teacher. “It’s a rodent. Well, he’s a rodent. Pickles is his name. He stayed with my sister but when she went looking for our mother he kind of adopted me.” It was the most delicate way to explain the situation, but more accurately Pickles had taken it upon himself to watch Ade, keeping her from self destruction at times. It had been a hard job for such a small creature, strange for the prey to be protecting the predator.
Smiling sheepishly she realized that hadn’t really explained what a chinchilla was, only who Pickles was. Again she tried, clearing her throat to make sure she did it right this time. “A chinchilla has big, silly ears and long legs. They jump really high.” There, that was a good description. Thinking over her words she added in one last comment for good measure. “Their tails are very, very furry.” Hopefully that was a satisfactory answer. Adelaida let her bright eyes meet up with the amber eyes of the male and then trail back up to the bird. Obviously it was a companion and never before had she met another wolf who kept a companion not of the canine type, it was an understatement to say she was curious. “Who is that?”
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Hemming nodded thoughtfully as she spoke, finding it interesting that a rodent had actually become quite fond of a wolf. The chinchilla seemed to like having company, too, if he had clung to someone else when his original companion was absent. Pickles was a funny name, but the strangeness of the title seemed to suit the animal. As the female explained what a chinchilla was, Hemming tried to imagine it. The image he conjured in his head started out something like a rat, and was altered as per her description. If his own thoughts were to be trusted, the creatures were quite funny looking, and possibly quite cute. He would have to see one in real life or in a book, some day, just to make sure.
His amber eyes had floated up to the sky as he thought, and a smile had crept across his face. When she was done speaking, he paused for a moment, still picturing the beast, before looking back to her. "They sound like very funny creatures," he replied, "I've never seen anything like that!" Mice had relatively small, button ears, and their tails were hairless. Other rodents were rather unfamiliar to the wolf. Maybe he would look for a book in the library on rodents when he went with Kansas.
She questioned him about the little bird that sat atop his head, and he smiled almost bashfully. His Spirit Guide had only been with him for a day or two, and he still didn't really realize that others might notice her. "This is Dagrun. She's my Spirit Guide." Hemming wasn't sure if this female would be familiar with the idea, for he hadn't been for the longest time either. Even now that he had one, it would be hard for him to explain, and so he gathered a few words on the tip of his tongue just in case.
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“Oh, they are!” Adelaida found her tail thumping in agreement and she quickly stilled it, slightly embarrassed to have shown such obvious excitement for such a everyday conversation. Yet just thinking of Pickles cheered her up. At her lowest of times he was constantly there, simply so that she was not wallowing in her self loathing alone. During the better of times he never failed in making her laugh with his antics, for such a small creature he seemed to have a large personality, though whether he really possessed it or if Alexey and herself had just projected it upon the creature was debatable. Either way the rodent had been a blessing, doing his part to bring her sister and herself back together.
Turning to look behind her out of habit, Adelaida remembered that today the rodent had elected to stay home. Often times the chinchilla would trail behind her, Adelaida walking slow so it wouldn’t get lost and even allowing it to perch between her should blades and catch a ride. Today Hemming would not get to see him and Adelaida nearly opened her mouth to invite him back to Dahlia de Mai to meet Pickles, but she caught herself. He was a stranger in every sense except that she knew his name, and though she was trying to be more outgoing, she wasn’t quite ready for such a straight forward approach at making friends.
Thankfully the male quickly gave her a distraction. Cerulean eyes moved over the bird once more and Adelaida couldn’t see her own face but she knew she looked puzzled. “A Spirit Guide?” She was sure that combined with the confusion in her voice and upon her face he knew what she was asking, but just to be redundant she asked again. “What is a Spirit Guide?” She hoped that this wasn’t going to be anything like when Luperci were explained to her, monsters that came straight from nightmares and now were a real part of her life. Either way she was prepared for something outlandish and unnatural, which Adelaida connected the word “spirit” to.
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Enthusiasm was a characteristic that Hemming quite enjoyed in other wolves, and he was pleased by the way it manifested itself in this girl. His grin spread wide and he chuckled a little, his own tail wagging a few times. It was clear that Pickles was not only a very interesting creature, but also someone that was important to her, based on her initial comment, the story she told in explanation. The gray male had always thought it would be wonderful to have an animal friend that would tag along, to save one from loneliness, and finally he did. He had only known the little bird perched atop his head for a day or two now, but he felt like he had known her forever.
The wolf struggled with her question. It was a concept he still didn't grasp entirely, being so strange and unfamiliar. He had only just come to the AniWaya tribe, after all, and was still largely strange to their ways. Prior to living in AniWaya, Hemming had, for years, developed a way of thinking that was almost purely naturalistic. Spirit Guides seemed to defy the very way he made conclusions about the world, and he was still grappling with the consequences this shift in thinking had.
The question that this female had asked was a difficult one despite its simplicity, and he squinted his eyes a little as he thought, peering into the clear blue sky. His tribesmate Catherine had explained it to him, but it had all been so abstract, then. With the little bird on his head everything was made more real, but even more strange at the same time.
After biting his lip for a short moment, he looked back down to the female and said, "A Spirit Guide is the soul of an animal that has turned itself into a physical form and found a wolf to... befriend, and guide. Many in my tribe, AniWaya, have them." The explanation did not seem at all complete, because Hemming did not yet know the rest. They were an ocean of mystery, and so far all Hemming had done was skip stones across the surface.
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