Fairies, and Witches, and Dragons, oh my!

Unlike mother, just like daughter

Darcy blinked awake. A rustle from outside the dark warmth of the new caravan she was settled in, disturbed her slumber. Brain fuzzy she swung her legs down while rubbing her eyes, the dryness at the corners crushed beneath her thin pale hands. The more she gained consciousness, the more she wondered about her change in location. At the start of the night, she had been around the family fire, leaning against her mother's shoulder. The soft wool of her black shawl warmed against Darcy's cheek, the stray threads tickling her nose while her eyes closed. Smoke and soft murmurs of the night drew her into unconsciousness.

Those were the last thing she remembered; now she was in her enclosed wagon atop her bed, with the flaps that led to the outside, securely tied. The tickle of a protective enchantment was placed over them to keep dangerous things from threatening Darcy. She may have some abilities advanced for her age, but she was still a child.

Darcy shivered as the wind whistled outside. The caravan was not cold per-se, it had been magically enchanted to stay warm by her curara, though it did not mean the place was any less eerie. It especially did not help with this being her first time sleeping alone. Darcy knew that she getting too old to sleep in her mama's bed, but her mama didn't mind so why stop?

In the eeriness of her bed, she debated whether or not she should leave. She scratched at the side of her head absently, her hand entangling with the fine strands. They were easily moved and formed on her head, leading to many complex hairstyles created by her mama, and curara. It was usually admired by rundown parents who spent hours upon hours dealing with the unruly locks on the heads of their own children. To them, Darcy's hair was a blessing. To Darcy, it was a reminder she was not completely of her clan. That she was outside their norms.

Darcy lowered her hand, making up her mind to leave the caravan. She wanted to be around her family, not stowed away. She crawled from the bed, her bare feet landing on the spun red rug, then she plucked her worn leather jacket from its hook next to her bed and grabbed her boots sprawled near her bed. Now, laced and buttoned she untied the string of the wagon flaps and hopped down. Her feet landing in the damp grass.

Once she exited the wagon, the flaps retied themselves as Darcy turned her back to follow the smell of smoke. Her path, lit by the unobstructed moon and stars she walked with the sounds of katydids and crickets accompanying her. The night was cool; a break from the sweltering heat of their encampment during the day. This made her life exceedingly difficult since she was now old enough to help with chores.

She kicked a stray rock in her path, startling a few nocturnal animals that skittered away. An owl not far off gave an annoyed hoot. Darcy smirked and replied with her own hoot. The owl responded by flying down from the trees. She looked up as it soared, the white feathers hid in the velvet night and came back down, its sharp beak targeted toward her throat. Darcy smirked, not blinking as the predator flew closer. She waited until it jerked up just at the right moment to circle above her head, and then settle on her shoulder. Its claws gently grasped onto her slim shoulder. Darcy raised her finger to stroke its beak. The owl fluffed its feathers, and playfully nipped at her finger. New friend required Darcy, continued to walk in the general direction of where she thought her family was.

The smell of smoke and the increasing volume of chatter told Darcy she was on the right track, right up until she reached the very edges of the wooded enclosure. The willows and oaks bending to protect the family hearth. Darcy slowed the closer she got. The notion of eavesdropping on the adults making her giddy. They all assumed she would be asleep, so this was the perfect opportunity to listen to usually forbidden conversations.

She hid in the tree's foliage, spying on the flickering fire. Too far off the adult's voices were muffled. Not perturbed she whispered a small incantation to the owl, then set it off to hover over the adults. It quickly found a branch above the snowy white hair of her papu, his strong frame, and sun-wrinkled skin clothed in entirely black clothing, The only other color being the flower crown Darcy had made, then bestowed on him. The incantation in effect, her vision and hearing switched to the owls.