09-25-2018, 08:19 PM
I have met a lifetime's worth of wolves in too short a time, but this is the first one that introduces himself as such. Curious, I tilt my head, unable to keep from wondering if he'd been given that name as a child or chosen the moniker for himself. Neither would surprise me, I decide, but regardless of the origin it is certainly fitting.
He calls me Lepis, and uncertainty begins to pool just behind my heart. I hadn't introduced myself, but he knows me. It is possible I have gained enough renown to be recognized by strangers (my scars are distinctive) but something about the mulberry creature's hollow eyes suggest otherwise. I take hold of the uncertainty and crush it to nothing, overwhelmed by a flood of confidence. It lasts only a heartbeat, and then I am blinking long-lashed and wary eyes the stallion who wants to know more about Loess.
There are few who know the place better than I. For a moment I am nostalgic, and then he is smiling and calling me Queen and the memories are gone as quick as they'd arrived.
"Queen of Sylva," I reply. "Though I have lived in Loess since I was a child, and only recently left." To follow my husband, I do not add, because I have grown weary of mentioning him every time I say that I am queen. I am important enough to be queen on my own merit - so says that bit of pride that festers up whenever I lose control.
I rarely lose control.
"I'll have to thank Scorch," Are the polite words that follow, tone and demeanor befitting a diplomat but not quite matching the glittering hardness in my eyes. "As for what I can tell you of Loess, that depends on what you'd like to know about it. The kingdom's ranks? Or the land itself?" Or something else entirely, I suspect. Something nefarious, as they all have planned eventually.
He calls me Lepis, and uncertainty begins to pool just behind my heart. I hadn't introduced myself, but he knows me. It is possible I have gained enough renown to be recognized by strangers (my scars are distinctive) but something about the mulberry creature's hollow eyes suggest otherwise. I take hold of the uncertainty and crush it to nothing, overwhelmed by a flood of confidence. It lasts only a heartbeat, and then I am blinking long-lashed and wary eyes the stallion who wants to know more about Loess.
There are few who know the place better than I. For a moment I am nostalgic, and then he is smiling and calling me Queen and the memories are gone as quick as they'd arrived.
"Queen of Sylva," I reply. "Though I have lived in Loess since I was a child, and only recently left." To follow my husband, I do not add, because I have grown weary of mentioning him every time I say that I am queen. I am important enough to be queen on my own merit - so says that bit of pride that festers up whenever I lose control.
I rarely lose control.
"I'll have to thank Scorch," Are the polite words that follow, tone and demeanor befitting a diplomat but not quite matching the glittering hardness in my eyes. "As for what I can tell you of Loess, that depends on what you'd like to know about it. The kingdom's ranks? Or the land itself?" Or something else entirely, I suspect. Something nefarious, as they all have planned eventually.
