11-03-2021, 09:54 AM
It is no longer as easy to crawl beneath her mother’s wing as it had once been, but the lanky filly manages nonetheless, appearing just beside her mother’s shoulder with a contented grin and very mussed hair and flowers.
“You just gotta practice!” Myrna says in response, bending her head in such a way that her mother might best see the cluster of pink flowers between her ears. The warm glow of Mazikeen’s compliment settles in Myrna’s chest, another piece of a happy childhood. “I ate a lot of them too,” she then admits, because perhaps that had been a part of learning the magic as well.
There are many parts to magic, she has learned, but the most important is practice. That’s why she is the very best at becoming a goat, and why she’s been getting better at being a leopard, and a small dragon, and a nearly grown horse. Other shapes are still beyond her reach, for there is only so much time a day that a child can dedicate to shifting.
There are so many other things to do, after all! Things like play with Malik, or follow Bolder, or chase rabbits, or nap, or dream of flying. Or play with her mother, which it seems as though might be on the agenda for the afternoon.
What does she want to do, she thinks? They have already looked in the Common Lands for her grandparents, but perhaps they could look again? Maybe this time, she would finally be able to catch a frog before it escaped into the water! Or maybe they could go somewhere new, somewhere super cool that even Malik has not been before!
Most places are beyond her reach, bound to the ground as she still is, and as she thinks this, a pair of scaled dragon wings begin to grow from her sides. She steps away, not wanting to prod her mother with the sharp-edged scales, and focuses on keeping them (but not the rest of the dragon’s shape). It’s more difficult than she is prepared for though, and soon she is entirely a small pale dragon.
“Can we set some stuff on fire?!” She asks excitedly. Her eyes are bright and clear, and she imagines a few pines burning like the one beside the lake, like bright spires pointing toward the sky. They will crackle and pop, and maybe her mother would let her get closer to the flames than Malik ever would. He makes her stay far back, even with her healing, but perhaps Mama will be more lenient.
“You just gotta practice!” Myrna says in response, bending her head in such a way that her mother might best see the cluster of pink flowers between her ears. The warm glow of Mazikeen’s compliment settles in Myrna’s chest, another piece of a happy childhood. “I ate a lot of them too,” she then admits, because perhaps that had been a part of learning the magic as well.
There are many parts to magic, she has learned, but the most important is practice. That’s why she is the very best at becoming a goat, and why she’s been getting better at being a leopard, and a small dragon, and a nearly grown horse. Other shapes are still beyond her reach, for there is only so much time a day that a child can dedicate to shifting.
There are so many other things to do, after all! Things like play with Malik, or follow Bolder, or chase rabbits, or nap, or dream of flying. Or play with her mother, which it seems as though might be on the agenda for the afternoon.
What does she want to do, she thinks? They have already looked in the Common Lands for her grandparents, but perhaps they could look again? Maybe this time, she would finally be able to catch a frog before it escaped into the water! Or maybe they could go somewhere new, somewhere super cool that even Malik has not been before!
Most places are beyond her reach, bound to the ground as she still is, and as she thinks this, a pair of scaled dragon wings begin to grow from her sides. She steps away, not wanting to prod her mother with the sharp-edged scales, and focuses on keeping them (but not the rest of the dragon’s shape). It’s more difficult than she is prepared for though, and soon she is entirely a small pale dragon.
“Can we set some stuff on fire?!” She asks excitedly. Her eyes are bright and clear, and she imagines a few pines burning like the one beside the lake, like bright spires pointing toward the sky. They will crackle and pop, and maybe her mother would let her get closer to the flames than Malik ever would. He makes her stay far back, even with her healing, but perhaps Mama will be more lenient.