❝bare your teeth, little one, for you are made of stardust and divinity.❞
It is said, in the era before the mother of our mothers, when the ancients first built their ruins, we were not alone in this world. Creatures flitted through the skies above...
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Tip's breaths came in shaky and uneven bursts.
He toyed with the feather wrapped around his throat, twisting and tangling the thread in the same way he often times played with the fur of his tail. He still typically reached for his tail before his necklace—in fear that his fidgeting might cause the thread to wear down and one day snap—but doing so while walking would throw off his balance and cause an excess of stumbling clumsiness, something Tip could not afford at the moment.
Tip walked a step behind the Chief Elder. He was in the front of the herd but, for once, his anxiety was not caused by his not knowing what was happening behind him. Instead, his eyes were focused on the path before him. Tip tried not to indulge his dire imaginings of everything that could go wrong, but his thoughts kept swirling around his head, like leaves caught in a spirling wind.
"Keep your head raised, Tipitia," the Chief Elder said.
Tip stiffened at the sound of her voice, low and firm, before he hurried to lift his chin, though his fingers did not fall away from his necklace. Tip tried to mimic the Chief Elder's own posture. Though she was old enough that there was an obvious stiffness to her movements, as though her joints had been laced with frost that refused to melt beneath the warmth of the sun, the Chief Elder never lowered her chin. She refused to lead her herd with anything but pride.
"Sorry," Tip said. He shifted closer to her. "It's quiet."
The Chief Elder hummed in agreement. Her expression did not change but Tip watched as her tail flicked in agitation. "We're being watched. They're on your bad side."
It took a great deal of control for Tip to not instantly snap his head in that direction. He forced himself to make the movement look as natural as possible, his good eye tracing the trees and his good ear pricked and eager to pick up any sound. However, even knowing they were there, Tip still could not pick them out. It was only when the wind shifted directions that Tip caught their scent.
"Two?" Tip asked.
"Three," the Chief Elder corrected. "One is a bit higher than the other two."
Tip nodded. The scents of the two at the lower elevation must have merged together in the wind and, as he was not familiar with either of them, he had not been able to recognize them as two distinct scents. It did not take long for Tip to pick them apart, though, as the two on the ground began to move forward.
"Chief Elder?" Tip asked, his voice coming out pitched and tight. He wanted to retreat, to run and hide somewhere safe.
"Do not lower your head, Tipitia," the Chief Elder said through gritted teeth.
The Chief Elder's teeth were still bared in a smile that was anything but friendly as two women emerged from the shadows. It was evident that they were both Practitioners of Protection from their spears, but Tip could have guessed that much without ever seeing them. What took Tip aback about them was how remarkably similar they looked to the members of his own herd.
