I watch the city burn, these dreams like ashes float away...
It was quickly becoming second nature for Lilitha to make quiet rounds of the forest, her little girl at her heavily-scarred side as they walked along the border, taking in the scents and sights, miniscule changes to their preferred path. A deer trail forming here, a branch falling there. It had become routine by now, a soothing ritual that helped her keep the land safe and helped her coax her new daughter out of her shell a little.
Singe felt safest with routine, and with her fire-wielding momma at her side to keep her own fire in check if need be. They’d traveled this way enough that she even smiled up at Lilitha and frolicked at her side, dark eyes wide and curious instead of clenched shut in fear. Lilitha smiled back and nuzzled her gently, an encouraging little touch to her withers. In one of her braver moments, Singe even scampered ahead, her little bat wings flaring out to help her balance as she surged forward on clumsy, gangly baby legs.
Oh, Lilitha remembered those days all too well. She’d been an awful lot clumsier than her Singe though, and would certainly have tripped over her own feet by this point at the filly’s age. Maybe Singe was lucky they didn’t share blood, or perhaps she too would’ve been sprawled out on the ground, face-planting in the dirt after a particularly spectacular stumble. Thankfully Lilitha had long since grown into her limbs. She would never be beautiful, covered in scars from the slash down her left eye to burn scars splashed across her chest, claw marks and slashes littering her coat and running in lines along her hind-quarters, but she had at least managed to acquire some grace of movement over the years.
Singe skidded to a halt, eyes wide as she scrambled backward with a soft sound of panic, and Lilitha picked up her pace a little to catch up. Her ears perked forward and she caught the sound of voices up ahead. She caught up to her girl, pressed a soft little kiss to her back, nibbled at her scruff of a baby mane in quiet reassurance, and kept on walking, catching the very end of Magnus’s words.
“I had come up see how Taiga fares in the current climate. Keeping my finger on the pulse and all that.”
Singe clung to her side as she carried on forward, making note of the two strangers and Ruan’s familiar face. She smiled and chimed in with, “Taiga fares quite well. We’re good, strong, stubborn folk, and a fair few of us have dug in our heels to ride out this latest disaster together here at home. My name is Lilitha,” she offered the strangers, having missed the magician’s sneaky game of already knowing the other two’s names. “And this is my daughter, Singe. I’m sorry, I missed the introductions. Where are you gentlemen from?”
...your voice I never heard, only silence.