Completed Denusk Family Reunion Part II: A fly on the Web

[Delani Denusk]

Time Stamp: 58 Spring, 513

The stream water was a pleasant sound. Smooth, bubbling, cool. It refreshed the senses and brought the mind peace and clarity. Water was such a beautiful thing. And it was were Delani was currently set up with some of the other women of the pavilion. She and they were working at the stream to clean the tent canvas' that afternoon; the work was hard and kept them busy and focused. It was hard enough with many still recovering from the devastating pox, but Delani was glad she was able to help even in this way.

The pavilion was still struggling after the death of their master webber from the pox as well and was now somewhat stranded in the grasslands, slowly working his way towards the summer grounds in hopes of catching up with the city by the change to summer.

Delani bent over the stretch of tent she had, working the rough side of the stone over it and singing in time with the other women as they worked side by side. The work song told of the spring rains bringing fresh water to the streams and rivers and how the rains would rejuvenate the Sea and bring with it new and better life. With each beat in the song, Delani stretched out over the canvas, rubbing the stone across it and then withdrawing and moving the palm of her hand over the surface that had been scrubbed to make sure it was clean. They'd been at it all afternoon, spirits kept up by the songs.

The months spent with this remote family had provided Delani with a great amount of insight. Her time spent lost in the grass and with the caravan trying to reconnect with the city had given her a new look at a great many things, and not just her respect for the ferocity of the world they lived in. Cyphrus was a beautiful and frightening region and Dela's experience had proven helpful at least to this pavillion thusfar. She had knowledge of some untainted waterways in the area as well as some key hunting points she'd encountered during her time spent in the Sea, separated from them all.

Delani thought on this as she often did, smiling to herself and working the stone continually along the canvas. This family had helped her a great deal, the least she could do is whatever they would ask of her. However, the thought of family brought back memories of that night in the cave. Ahanu's death, her Strider's death...reuniting with other Drykas only to find out that her own family was all dead or missing. It was disheartening to have nothing to come back to. But maybe something here, amongst these kind Ruby's, would brighten things. They were certainly grateful for her Lykata skill, limited that it was. If nothing else, she could help them find their way back to Endrykas.

[Aramenta]

If there was one thing that Ara had learned from her work in the webbing teams over the spring, it was simply the diversity of method on the Web. Particularly in teaching. The team she had ridden with in the south-country, the master webber of it had been a close, careful man, who very meticulously picked out work which Ara would be capable of, then took the time to give her long instruction on how it was to be done and what to watch out for. Hearing of Ara's discovery of wandering people in her repair area seemed to positively perturb the man, and he had been almost fussy in ensuring Ara was alright. It had been comforting, in a way, as she just started, almost like having a parent, and it had made her feel confident, slowly, at her own pace, without feeling endangered. By the time she left, though, she had to confess, she'd begun to feel, perhaps, a bit condescended to.

In the northern team, which she had ridden out to join after her return to Endrykas, was entirely different. The webber here, a scattered, sharp-eyed woman with a bellowing, playful laugh forever at her lips, treated Ara, pretty much, as if she were just as experienced as anyone else. She laughed when Ara asked if she should run a ley line to her when she went out, but allowed it - but had never once used it. She had sent Ara out on her own to go scouting on a far loop, with only a vague warning that she might run into a 'glassbeak or something'.

This wasn't to say she was uncaring. She went out of her way to listen to Ara's stories, offer little critiques, show her better ways of doing a thing... just... after the fact in general. It was exhilarating in a way, and terrifying in another way. And when she was done, if a thing felt right, if the chords that ran from it felt whole and sweet? It was hers. She felt proud of it.

And in a sense, it made the whole affair feel like a holiday. She was, now, up late - she had been webbing for nigh on eight hours, and had lost track, entirely of time, following a complex track of fiber torn horribly by the Djed storm. She'd found a fallen Strider, and laid a knot-stone for her. She'd followed downward to make the temporary knots to pull in a cairn older than anything she'd ever tied to without an adult's presence - but then, she was an adult now. She sent a song down the wire playfully, that the work could be firmed and made permanent by a more practiced voice than her own - she was perhaps feeling adventurous. But not suicidal.

The last of the knots she spliced onto the corner of the cairn was what led her to the Pavilion. It was a good line, but young, untested. The sort of road one followed if it went somewhere one wished to go, but in this case, it seemed an unlikely one to be followed by a whole Pavilion. It led, at the end, to nothing but a shortcut Iysan Ruins, and there was little enough reason to travel there, that Ara could imagine.

And yet, as she sang her way slowly along the road, she heard the peculiarity of a distorted echo, of her voice ringing back from a well of living web, and stopped. She called out soft snatches of the song of herself, listened to the reverberations - it would not do to run into something dangerous. She listened, concentrating keenly. Work songs, the echos of living things rubbing against a web - a frayed web though. MAny souls, but damaged and flapping at the corners, barely tied to the web beneath it, old knots failing slowly.

She closed her eyes then, and tugged gently, ever so gently on the master thread, furled absently at a frayed bit, and listened. The hum of the forward knots, linking the pavilion in sang back, weakly. She sang a long thread of herself, that peculiar feeling of spaceless space, as the tendrils and notes of her wormed their way into the first knot, threeading through, and laying piecs of herself into the torn corners, the fading fibers. She tugged gently on it with her voice, and a quaver washed through the mound. A woman, not a master webber but one with at least a basic understanding, pulsed gently, from among the group of working women. Ara sang her way softly towards them, reading from the woman, the tale of the place - she was of Clan Birdflight, one Ara had not heard of before. The same echo of the name came unfamiliar, but pretty from the whole group of women - Birdflight, Birdflight. Denusk.

She started, and drew her song up higher.

"Who are you hear, pavilion, if you hear me?
Who are you and whence com and to where head?
Your webbings are worn, are you in distress?
I come from Endrykas,
And bring the tautening of the torn corners of the Sacred Ways."

She threw this at the woman who had perked up at the swelling of the repaired knot, and hoped she could offer some illumination.
x

[Delani Denusk]

The young woman who'd been seen on the web perked in response, her hands ceasing their labor on the canvas and her eyes gaining a slightly glassy look as she 'listened' to that which came to her. The ties to the pavillion were weak and weathered and the woman was not yet skilled enough to anchor her own djed in an origin, let alone tamper with the ancient threads that ran still slightly ragged through the Sea. She'd barely begun her apprenticeship when her master had died, and now the family was separated!

Her name was Onnerah Birdflight and this was her family. But who was this calling to her from the ethereal cords that linked them together? The young woman looked around uncertainly, searching the faces for any who might show recognition of the song she was hearing, but none did. They were all wrapped in their work at present, trying to finish before meal time. Laying her stone aside now, the apprentice reached out onto the web too, tentative, searching for a solid thread that could be sung upon. The best she could do was the jagged fray that left her words broken and distant as she replied to Aramenta's call.

"Onnerah Birdflight, Ruby, apprentice. Master dead.
Pox recovery.
Going to Summer Grounds
Know where Endrykas?"

The words were extremely broken, a combination of the young womans untrained hand still as well as the weathered silk she had touched. The glassy look passed from the girls eyes then only to meet Delani's from across the canvas she was working on. The older woman had stopped her stone-rub to stare at the younger one curiously before speaking up.

"I've seen that look before, Onnerah. Have you heard something on the Web?" She asked, laying the stone aside and rising to move over beside her. Dela settled down with feet folded under her, still watching the younger one.

"I don't know, Delani. I think so. A girl, I think, but I'm not sure. I can't understand it so well; master was just beginning to show me how to read the threads properly, especially these broken ones. Should I go tell the Ankal?"

"That is your decision, child. Is what you heard a threat or help?"

"Help, I think. I thought I heard Endrykas from them."

"Then our wisest decision would be to inform the Ankal, would it not? He will direct you how to respond."

"You're assuming I can even say it right."

"Perhaps who you heard has more to say? Listen."

x

[Aramenta]

The woman replied back, but the line was so poor, and the woman was no master of the art, clearly. The line whirred and hummed uncertainly, like worn string on a lute, the pale vibration of being ready to snap, and the voice came through as if from underwater. Ara frowned, and sang a loop of Djed from out her throat, and ran the sound into it, tying it back into a knot on itself, then listened to the voice, over and over, picking out words.

Ruby…

Apprentice, master dead… poor girl, that must be hard, alone, with the whole pavilion leaning on you.

Looking for Endrykas.

Well, that she at least could help with.

She stopped, first, and untied the loop she'd made, releasing the djed within it to return to its home, then sang softly to herself, spinning her voice out into strand she whirled around her fingertips. She traveled down the line to where the woman stood. The thread was in terrible shape, and the farther into the camp she ventured, the more the scent of decay and pox and the ravages of wild djed over powered her. She sang more powerfully - she could not rebuild an entire pavilion on her own, one in such tenuous shape. But, she could whirl her djed around the cable to this woman, so at least she would be able to communicate. It was a lot of material, though, for what she was capable of. She began to pull from the surrounding area, just gently, teasing and salvaging torn scraps of other, damaged lines, echoes of the scatter-sound of the place rising, in a complex jabber. Weeping, funerals, the drum of funeral after funeral. The steady power of their horses, pulling them through the dark times. The death of the webber, and of their last Ankal. And then, random things - a batch of stew, overpoweringly strong and enticing in odor, a couple making love, a splinter, a stranger Denusk.

She stopped, her fingers continuing unconsciously, but her voice paused, resting on a high, clear note of surprise. She snuffled deeply at the air, and yes… yes. There was a strange smell, now that she was closer, and her earlier suspicion was confirmed - one woman on the banks was an outsider.

"I have a line, but you must be gentle,
I am not a master yet.
I have repaired your line, but you must be gentle.
Here are the threads we can retie the knot of you?

The party is not far - we will come.
I will come with others, horses and men.
Stay camped, and we will bring you aid.
Stay camped,
The line is slender, now, you must be gentle?"

She paused, and sang more quietly.

"You have a woman there, Denusk?
A woman who is lost to her pavilion.
She is healthy?
I have been asked for news of those
Who bear her proud, ill-fortuned name."x

[Delani Denusk]

The young woman frowned as she strained to listen to the the song that came from the one upon the web. It was very difficult with her being so novice to it and she felt sweat breaking out across her brow as she concentrated.

Delani reached forth and touched the girl's hand. "Gently, lass. Don't strain yourself or you may get hurt."

The girl then stopped, an o of surprise upon her lips. She lifted her head and looked to the older woman beside her. "She asked of you!"

"What?"

"Yes, she said, 'You have a woman there, Denusk?' Someone she knows is asking for news of your family."

Delani blinked in true surprise. "Others live? We've been so separated for so long...I...Huh, I thought I was all that was left. Your master would have told me before he went to the clearing if there were any searching for survivors." She had been assumed dead, afterall, along with many from the Denusk pavilion. It was one of many that had been devastated during the storm. It just had the unfortunateness of a mass-wipe out in the process. And so far as Delani knew, she was the only one still alive; but being separated from Endrykas made knowing for sure impossible.

The girl nodded to the elder and elaborated that this webber was coming to help with others. They would get things fixed and all would be well! The apprentice alerted Ara a little further.

-Yes, Delani. Healthy, Helping.
Will tell the Ankal.
Much thanks and see soon.-

She let out a breath afterwards and grinned over at Delani.

"Go alert the Ankal, lass. It sounds like we may have company!" Dela said, leaning back on her feet and rising fluidly. The delight she felt to hear others were still alive brought such joy. She'd sing many prayers tonight. Eyris be praised for this knowledge.

x

[Aramenta]

Ara sang the song of the woman's response back into her heart, and started slowly humming her way back up the line, checking her handiwork as it went - the line was so damaged, it was indeed not going to stay forever, but she felt she'd poured enough in it that, at least, it would last. She stopped, crawled back down to the woman, checked the nod, strummed the chord gently - it had a certain wavering quality in tone, but it rang true in the center of its tone. She went back to where the line tied to the pavilion's perimeter. Fine. Listened closely to the tone that tied the pavilion to the web. Sound enough to last. Finally, she firgured there was nothing else to do for now, and she took her laying line, and pressed it to her throat, riding it's chords back home, the song of duty to Father, to family, the song of Canter and the strange echo of Ara's slave songs, and the call of the web for life and sacrifice, and then ---

She was in her body. It was so late now, that it had grown early. She was exhausted in her mind, but she was young, resilient, and she stumbled up to her feet, running to the tent of the master webber, feet scrabbling through the stony earth of the camp's center, the stillness of the night belied by the susurrations of the long spring grass, the whistle still filled with the wet flesh of the young shoots.

She had rushed in quickly, and was a bit embarassed to find the master webber naked under a thin sheet, and wrapped around one of the other webbers. She started, holding the sheet to her chest and sat up, a sleepy grin crossing her face.

"Ah, Ara... you... are not expected."

Ara blushed, and signe an apology, and a sign of parting

"No, no, spit it out quick, I'd rather go back to sleep than get dressed."

Ara was doubly embarrased now, as she approached the woman, and leaned in close to whisper to her naked ear, her own eyes staring down her bare back to the point of her buttocks."I... found a pavilion. Lost. Birdflight of Ruby, they lost their... their webber, and now they're wandering to find Endrykas..."

"And you spoke to them?"

"Yes'm. Tied a guide, and a temp line to one of their apprentice webbers. She's a little shaky, but I think she should be able to hold onto things. I told them... we'd send a few of us to repair their webbing, so they can.."

She nodded, "Drop a line back to us, then, grab two or three and ride off to do it. If its a rough line, you'll need to be the one, so the line's harmonics aren't strained. You can still ride?"

"Yes'm."

"Grand. Take eh... Lunia and Porvanos, and... Jik okay?"

"Yes'm."

"Now, tell me where the place is, so I can find you if you get lost..."

----------

One bell later, Ara rode, supported on the side by Porvanos Harkcaller, an older, experienced webber, though by that point, she was hardly aware of it. She was slumped on her Strider's back, at a full gallop, her body-instinct and Canter's wisdom keeping her there. She would drift back to herself occaisionally, to smell at the wind of the ride, to gently squeeze at Canter to check she wasn't tiring, but largely, simply to rest her brain for a moment. There was a continual tug on her as she went under, to leave her body behind, to wrap tight in the song of her own Djed, and in the vibrations of the web around it, to rest. Rest. But she kept tight to the lines, and as she rode the web along, guiding their trail, whispering the way to Canter through the strands of her, she hummed softly, songs she'd learned from Ara, to make her think of home.

"Livvy say,
Livvy say Ama,
Hold your head high...

Livvy say,
Livvy say Ama,
Hold your head high..."

And then, they were close, and she sat up, her brow covered in sweat. She lifted a hand. Then pack horse would be far behind, but the two of them were near now. It was late in the day, and Ara felt weak, realizing she hadn't eaten since the night before. But they were near enough now, they might run into scouts of the pavilion, the speed of their striders having held, in the damaged web Ara had patched.

She signed "Slwo. Nearby." and set her strider to a slow canter.
x

[Delani Denusk]

That night, the woman knelt on the edge of the pavillion, behind the storage tents, the weathered cloth of her work skirt folded beneath her and the intricate braid of her hair undone. She had removed the fingerless glove covering the Lormar and laid it to one side. She spoke in barely a whisper.

"My lady Eyris, I sing these praises to you for the news that you have brought from beyond this weakened family. Only your insight could have led this webber true to hear the call of the city that we may all be reunited once again. Only your ears could hear the call of my own family from beyond the frayed threads I walk amongst. For this and all you have given this humble servant, I praise you. May you continue to bless this stricken pavillion and lead them home as your gift has led me."

Delani rose as the sun finished setting and withdrew, redonning the glove to return to the others for dusk meal. As she entered the tent, she was greeted by the Ankals mother, a seniorly woman of ashy hair and wisened eyes. Her voice was always a welcome one to the Lykata-blessed Denusk.

"Good evening, Delani." Nohora said, smiling. "Pleasant prayers, I hope?"

"Yes, Nohora." Delani signed the honorific to the wise woman by raising her scarred hand and briefly touching her chin and heart. "Quite pleasant. The young webber Birdflight has heard some delighted news; perhaps the Ankal has shared this with you?"

The sage nodded once. "I hope you will not be departing us quickly, Delani. Your knowledge has proven invaluable to we of Birdflight."

"No, ma'am, I believe I will stay till we have reunited with the city. It would be illogical to leave your spirited family prematurely all for a rumor on the web." Which said simply that the Drykas did not want to climb the hope ladder too high lest the word from the webber the apprentice had heard prove inaccurate, or a false. "But let's think on this later, yes? The days work has left me famished and I look forward to the meal."

--------------------------------

The scouts spotted the approaching riders immediately and stepped from their posts to flag them down, broad gestures of Pavi 'called' from the distance to encourage them to stop. They'd been alerted by a rider already that they would have company (at last) and to be on the lookout for anyone, Drykas or not, that was heading their way. The sight of these was, therefore, a very welcome one. Help was finally here.

x

[Aramenta]

Aramenta stopped, squeezing her legs gently around her Strider's back. She leaned forward, exhausted, and whispered in the horse's ear, laying her hand against the neck, so the horse could feel the rhythm of her hands.

"Soon, Canter, soon, we can rest. Nearly there, help me just a little longer."

The horse snorted and shook a shiver from nose to tail, flecks of foam flying from her mouth. She had run hard and long, and supported her half-slack-bodied rider the entire way. She would need rest. Ara stroked her flank gently, less the way one might pet an animal, and more the way one might affectionately run a comforting hand down a close friend's back when they are tired.

Porvanos took the lead now, raising his signs high, in the probably unnecessary at this juncture, but habitual instinctual manner of showing he carried no armament and came in peaceful intention. He signed his name and - clumsily Ara noticed - Ara's as well, then asked the formal permission to enter. The sentry across grinned broadly and, perhaps a bit against the strict discipline of a Drykas scout - but who could blame him - laughed, and made a broad gesture of welcome.

"Come in! Come in! We have been expecting you! But only two? And one a child?"

Parvanos gestured pride, and a subtle condescension, "This 'girl'," gentle sarcasm, "Just tied the patch-knots to hold your pavilion back to the web. There are two more coming, slower, with the pack horses behind. Your Ankal, I would speak with him."

Ara blushed and, of course, said nothing with her lips, but her hands, also she kept still. The sentries after a few more exchanged pleasantries (pride in return, honorable apology, acceptance of their assumptions), led them into the camp. Parvanos, as the one holding seniority, went on to the Ankal. Ara, slid off the back of her horse with powerful relief flooding through her body, she wrapped her arms around the horses neck, equal parts gratitude, and the desire to lean on someone else. Canter bowed a tired head and nuzzled her back, and one of the horsemen of the Pavilion came respectfully to take Canter to be fed, and curried, the gestures given to an honored guest. The man was enormous, and Ara put a hand on his shoulder and stop on her highest tip toes to reach his ear, making a few bystanders look at her queerly, a few others laugh, and the man to blush a bit.

"Oat feed, if you still have some? She has run hard. She likes the currying if you start on her neck… Thank you, thank you." Her gestures were diffuse and tired, and communicated gracious gratitude, perhaps a touch of the maudlin over emotion of her tiredness. But there was still business to do. She closed her eyes, and waver back to the line she had drawn… the webbing apprentice… there. She opened them, smiled quietly, and walked forward to the other girl, and made a sign - thank you. She looked uncertainly around her, as well. Denusk? She checked the colors and style of dress, to see if there was someone differently attired. It was hard, she was tired, her eyes confused. She remembered the webber, and looked back to her.

x

[Delani Denusk]

While the child's superior was taken to speak with the Ankal, leaving Aramenta behind, she was met by the girl whom she'd spoken with, the apprentice looking shy and unsure but no less glad to see one more practiced at the skill than her in their decimated camp.

Once Canter was taken away, the young woman approached, signing her honorifics and smiling sheepishly. "I'm glad you and the other have arrived safely; we are so isolated, it is difficult to know what is lurking around us at present." When asked of the Denusk, she nodded. "I'll let her introduce herself; she is with the flocks, what is left of them. Come, I will take you to her."

They walked a little ways, following the footpath guarded by mounted warriors to the grazing spot beyond the main tents. The Zibri were being contained here with more sentries posted along the graze-line for their protection. Amongst them, was Delani. She sat upon a handsome dun stallion with splashes of snow across his strong and tall form. There were a few scars upon the bit stud, his flanks marked with what looked like bite or claw marks, as though he'd survived some sort of attack.

Delani herself rode him bareback, as comfortable in this way as she was walking. The colors of her clothing were badly faded, eventhough she lived among Ruby's currently and had been offered new clothes to replace the weathered garments she currently wore. She had refused each offering, however, only allowing the black and storm-gray silk strips braided into her hair as wraps to be the main color over the rest. Her face was a weathered one, eyes a storm of intelligence, lips tight as she looked upon the wooly herd before her.

The faded clothing looked as weathered as she, patched in some spots with new, undyed material, and lacking any kind of whimsical knotwork. The biggest thing beyond the slightly tired, withdrawn features and garments was how skinny she was. None could have known that the thin woman settled atop the colorsplash had once been thick of frame and broad of hip. Whatever had been endured, it had effected her deeply.

Delani's head turned when she heard a whistle from one of the others and turned on the horses back to look behind her, the shift allowing a glimpse of the sheathed falx she wore on her hip when not working inside the pavillion itself. She spotted the webbing apprentice and a young girl with her, the colors in the girls own cloth very different form the crimsons and softer oranges Birdflight wore. It must be the one the other had heard on the web.

Clucking to her mount and gently urging him around with her knees, Delani brought the stallion over to them. He was a fine specimen with his broad, draft head and thick fur along his ergot and fetlock. The whipping tail was pitch in color and his eyes bore a similar kind of intelligence to Delani's, as though the two had both survived great trauma.

"Hile, Drykas." Delani said, dismounting smoothly and gesturing kindly recognition to the maiden and child. Closer now, Ara could see the horrible scar that covered her right hand, back and palm alike. The left hand bore a fingerless glove, the digits smooth and unmarked. Those weathered, but no less intelligent eyes looked down at Ara in study, smiling before speaking further. "You must be from the team young Onnerah told us all about. You've set the pavillion all abuzz, you know and are greatly welcomed. They have needed assistance for some time."

Dela' then bowed her head briefly, a strange courtesy amongst the Drykas, and then shared her name. The Pavi had been altered from how Delani would have originally told who she was, for the names that were signed were as much stories of who they were. There were inflections of the letters altered to fit her experience as well as her honored name. The main sign involved a combination of the sign for knowledge (a part of the original of her name), storm, and loss. "I am Delani Denusk, at your service, child." The joy at finally being able to tell someone who sought her who she was was clear in the jade eyes that looked upon Ara', the joy of someone who had for so long been wanting to be found and at long last, had been. "I have heard you have news for me."

x

[Aramenta]

Ara followed the young webber - the proud resilience of youth made her keep her back upright as she walked. They threaded through the herd, the Birdflight child saying little, and Ara saying nothing. Her mind was scanning for the Denusk woman for two reasons: first, because she wanted to finish her business and go collapse somewhere and rest, and two, just pure, animal curiosity. And so, when they worn, narrow form appeared over the tops of the cattle, Ara examined her closely. She looked at the scar, examining it, looked closely at the marks on the horse, before answering the woman - not rudely, but frankly, and with an openness of expression almost as eloquent as speech.

Only recently had she been in this same place with the woman's kinsman - of having to introduce herself in her own peculiar way. A combination of the woman's gender and her own exhaustion made the ordeal simpler for Ara this time. She nodded her head respectfully, then respectfully walked forward to stand tall towards the woman's ear, signing in somewhat flat and tired signs as she spoke - pleasure, hope, the offer of aid.

"Aramenta of the Stonewhistling Pavilion, I hope at your service, wise-one." The last word would translate poorly back to common, were she home, teaching Pavi to her queer foreign acquaintance - it was an honorific offered to one of greater stature, denoting a willingness to learn. She spoke as one addresses an elder and superior, her hands and the cant of her head denoting the virtuous reverence of the young for the experienced. The woman lacked the dash and pizazz of Ara's webbing leader. But she carried a dignity, a stillness, and a quiet sadness that stirred at Ara. The solitary straightness of her, the horsewoman's gait of one who has known many roads, and the self-assured humility of her dress reminded Ara of nothing so much as her own mother, and the memory stirred her queerly, her mind wrestling with it but unable to resolve a way of treating it. Perhaps it was as much the exhaustion as the memory, but her tears grew slightly misty.

The woman spoke again, though, and it brought forward Ara's duty. She leaned forward again, her signs slow, serious, almost priestlike in their reverence.

"Yes, ma'am. Your brother of the Denusk Pavilion, the Ankal of your family, I have spoken to him. He is not very far from here. He is seeking word of his people. The Earth Mother, perhaps, guides our striders in crossing our paths."

This is the point at which a more experienced woman would have stopped. Ara, though, was young. Perhaps a touch romantic.

"He did not seem plump with hope of finding his loved ones. It will be a joy to him, I know, to know you are here, whatever suffering you… you carry on you…"

Nosiness implies, perhaps, a prurient interest. This was not that, this was simply a child seeing something fair and powerful, and wishing to understand it. Yet, it was perhaps a step beyond propriety with someone Ara had just met, and the confusion shook her throated whisper as she spoke the last words, and a blush came to her cheek. Her hands, almost involuntarily, signed a regret, and apology, as she stepped back from the woman, now.x