Disaster has struck!
The girl looks innocent enough but the way she moves...is she sick or something? Her body looks shaky, like she's had too much pork or something. One time my mom killed a wild hog and I ate some of the meat and she said I must have eaten too much cause my body got all shaky and my stomach hurt for a little while. Has she been eating wild hogs? It's a possibility. She's pretty with her white coat like snow. When she talks, she sounds like sunshine, all cheery like she's lonely for company or something. My expression softens. I'm more than happy to give her company if that's what she wants. My tail wags more fiercely. I shrug my shoulders a little.
"I'm fine, I guess. Better than you, I presume. You're not cold, are you? Is your stomach hurting? Have you been eating wild hog? I hear too much of that can be bad for you."
Like always, my tongue seems to be getting away from me. I've always been a talker. As a child, I was less about violence and more about getting my point across. Some say I talk too much. My sister surely thought so. Her favorite words were always "shut up" when it came to me, or much less friendly words. I tilt my head in curiosity as I wait for her answer. Would she even tell me if she has been eating hog? Maybe she'll think I just want to steal the meat or something and she's trying to save it for later meals. I know I don't come across as starving. My coat gleams and is thick and healthy. My frame is thick and full of hardened muscle from all the traveling I've done. Now I'm even training with Aithne in her spare time to learn how to defend myself. I'm actually feeling pretty good about myself. I feel light and fit. I feel good. She seems distant for a second and I blink a few times, waiting for her to recover and come back to the present. I daydream sometimes too so who am I to judge someone else for doing the same? It's always nice to get inside your own head sometimes and just think about other things that could or could not have to do with the present situation at hand.
I focus back on her when she says her name. Jaidah, what a pretty name. My tail wags again.
"A pleasure, Jaidah. Do you live here or are you just passing through? Are you from Moladian?"
Again, so many questions. I've always been curious of others, always wanting to know their story. Maybe it's a curse or maybe it's a blessing, I don't know quite yet.
Tristan.male.5 years old.son of