Whispers Waltz Around Our Dreams . . .

A flash of russet flashed through the long grass, led by a snout of snow—one of the many Dierne Hrof children. The Arcus Irae princess had never spoken to the Alpha’s seemingly endless brood, but recognized this girl by her brilliant green eyes and the fiery colors sewn into her cape. Losa’s rigid posture instantly relaxed, although the tension in her chest remained tightly coiled; she forced herself to meet the young lass halfway, mechanically wagging her ombre banner and wearing a fragile smile. “Hello, young one.” The warmth in her soft voice managed to sound genuine . . . not that Losa wanted to be cold. She wished she could trill and giggle and embrace the little Haeld like the glittering royal she’d been trained to become. She wanted to exude the light and love that Zawyne seemed to exhale with each breath. Amiable. Beautiful. Effortless. Pressure twisted her heart. The grin on her lips twitched, and Losa swallowed hard, mentally coaching herself to get it together already, damn it! Why is this little girl even out here? Do her parents know what she’s doing? Am I supposed to be responsible for her? I can’t take care of mySELF, how am I supposed to look after this child—

Something was off. Losa could see the lass’s ears swivel, yet those towers did not flicker in Losa’s direction . . . or really any direction in particular. What was she listening to? The cotton candy damsel cleared her throat experimentally, anticipating some kind of reaction from the verdant-eyed child. No response. The Haeld beamed at her, tail swishing happily from side to side, clearly watching Losa’s lips moving . . . and then the pup spoke for the first time. And the princess understood.

Eccentric inflections. Lilting annunciation. The spitfire faerie—Ikuseghan—spun her lyrics as if she were speaking a foreign language. She’s Deaf. That explained the way Iku studied Losa’s muzzle when the rainbow murmured to her, why her ears did not turn forward to better catch the Arcus Irae’s words. The pastel ballerina couldn’t help but tilt her head with interest, already wondering how Iku had learned the art of lip-reading. Had she taught herself? Had her parents or siblings assisted her along? Things like Deafness and blindness were not unheard of in her homeworld; such alterations in perception, once discovered, were quickly tackled with plans if the pup was born into a good home. Losa had once met with a family that had one Deaf member; they’d developed their own system of home signs to communicate with the child, while other family members translated the curious cub’s questions to outsiders. Their impromptu communication system—the brilliance with which they’d solved what might have been a problem—had inspired the princess. If her mother and father hadn’t hushed her, if her guards hadn’t tried to divert her attention to other things, Losa might have pursued the question of why a more formalized language hadn’t been developed to accommodate these non-hearing varg. And remembering that moment, that spark of insight and inquisitiveness in her nascent years, had Losa’s tight grip on her soul lessen ever so slightly . . . and she found herself releasing the barest shred of her aura to extend toward Ikuseghan.

“My name is Losa.” Iku surely would have seen the my name is pattern before—so even if she did not completely catch Losa’s title, the girl would understand what the rainbow was trying to communicate. The Arcus Irae unfortunately did not have the powers of telepathy . . . nevertheless, Losa attempted to express herself without words the best she could, conjuring visions of sunlight blazing like flames through soft morning clouds in the intangible energy of her presence. Dawnfire. Then, emotions of concern tinged the wispy ribbon brushing by Ikuseghan’s spirit, wordlessly wondering what the pup was doing so far from Dierne Hrof by herself. Alone? Safety? Family?

It took an enormous amount of concentration to focus herself on Iku, to hold back the floodgates wanting to burst. Losa did not notice the sound of a splash swallowed by the river’s churning current, nor did she realize another wolf had witness her mostly silent conversation with the ginger-pelted youngline. At the sound of someone stating their name, Losa actually jolted and yelped, only just barely biting back a completely un-princess-like curse.

Mismatched windows of amethyst and heaven-blue swept toward the sight of a soaked femme, her wet pelt as slick as freshly spilled ink. The river caressed her sides where she stood, sweeping around her legs, and Losa got the impression that this woman must either truly love the cool relief or not care much about appearances. A fraction of a second ticked by where the Arcus Irae envied that carefree attitude . . . and then she swallowed it back, just like everything else, and tried her best to grin at the stranger with all the friendliness she could muster. “Emerie, was it? I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you approaching. I should have been paying more attention.” Losa had no reason to believe that Emerie was dangerous . . . but she angled herself to stand somewhat in front of Iku anyway, making it clear she felt protective of the child without projecting an air of mistrust or anger. Perhaps, in different circumstances, the sunrise painting would not have even thought about shielding Iku from another wolfess. But Losa had seen too many family members turn on their own, too many guards betray their wards, and after all this time she still had no idea what to expect from Blossom Forest.

“We’re from Dierne Hrof, in the mountains. We are on our way toward the ocean. Are you familiar with this stretch of land?”

☽Arcus Irae Princess | Sister to Zawyne | Chained to Duma | Bound to Hurricane | xathira☾