Common

The mother and daughter had sheltered together beneath an older, wiry-shaped oak tree as the night fell. They were unusually silent but slept touching each other, their heads and necks wrapped across the other's withers.

When the dawn broke and the world slowly grew louder around them, Corvair was the first to rouse. She peered out at the alien landscape with quiet fascination, her heart hovering somewhere in her throat. The girl had been waiting for this day for the past year or so, ever since her father had left them for his post in the Badlands, but it felt surreal to finally face it.

It was finally her turn.

She roused her mother with a kiss to the cheek and after much cajoling, and comforting, and promises to check in before they left the Commons so that they would both know where to visit, Corvair separated from her mother. It was not the first time she'd walked without her, of course, but it was different. She hadn't been looking for a home when she'd gone to the Inlet, or, at least she hadn't found one there. This time, she was adamant she would not leave the Commons without somewhere new to call her own.

Lifting her head, the bright-eyed two-year-old called out for any would-be suitors, and then settled to wait quietly, her tail frisky about her silvery-bronzey hips as she waited.