Ninjagaësia

The Changeling Girl

She was washing clothes by the Anora when he found her. Even with silent footsteps, she still sensed him approach, pausing her work with an unreadable expression.
“..You are not normally so quiet.” She remarked, shifting to put away the wet fabrics, copper hair briefly flashing silver in the sun.

“I am unsettled.” Zane admitted, kneeling beside the basket of unclean laundry. It was nearly empty.
“Your hands are not cold?” He checked.
She shook water off of briefly silver hands, muttering what sounded like dreyma under her breath before smiling. “Like you, the cold doesn't bother me like it does most. Not since some time ago.”

“A year is hardly long at all.” Zane pointed out, gently handing her a shirt to wash as she put away the last thing.
“A year still feels like a long time to me.” Pixal replied, starting to scrub at a slight stain.
“I am sure one day it will not feel like so.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, a comfortable companionship that lasted until she finished wringing out the shirt. Zane gave her the tunic from the bottom of the basket.
“Do you want to share why you are uneasy?” Pixal finally asked.

Zane hesitated, looking out over the rushing water.
“...I believe it would be easier to show you.” He admitted. She glanced at him in concern, fingers tucking a wiry strand of hair behind her ear with a sound akin to sand on metal.
“Our recent trip into the mountains has brought back something strange.” He added. “Something that has awakened memories I did not know I had.”

Pixal suddenly stopped moving, staring blankly at the water. Zane hesitated, concerned. He heard her whisper Svellskul- a word that felt distinctly familiar whose meaning escaped him. He was about to ask when she met his gaze with her pale green eyes.
“What memories has the Spine awakened in you?”

He tapped his knee thoughtfully, debating what to say. “Before I tell you.. will you promise not to speak of this?”
She pulled the tunic from the water abruptly, reaching out to set a still wet hand on his leg kindly.
“Your secrets are safe with me always, Zane. I trust you.”

He settled a hand of his own over hers, the dampness rapidly cooling in his grip.
“Of course. The matter is simply.. more extreme than usual.” He explained, nervous.
The pale green eyes bore into him, startlingly bright.
“Tell me.”

He stared back, unsure of what to say until she finally looked away.
“We encountered four stones. By that I mean they appeared in a burst, charring the ground around them. When I first beheld them, I.. saw terrible things. I remembered places I have never seen, I recall dragons and Riders, but.. only their scales and faces. Their names, their voices escape me. All of it is faded save for this terrible memory of the King. His.. magic is dark, darker than anything I can yet imagine. I cannot understand why I have these memories, or why they came to me when I first saw those eggs..”

“Eggs?” Pixal echoed. Zane froze, though only for a moment. He smiled apologetically.
“I did not realize they were eggs at first. Though.. perhaps a part of me did.” He glanced at the rippling water.
“What.. sort of eggs were they?” She asked softly, likely already guessing the truth.

He looked into her eyes, the word heavy on his tongue, unwilling to emerge.
Then it spilled out when he closed his eyes.
“Dragon eggs.”
Pixal let out a faint gasp of shock.
“How can this be?”

“I do not yet know.” Zane admitted, rising to his feet. “But I would like you to see them. There is more that I do not wish to speak of in the open.” He offered his hand. Pixal regarded it uncertainly, then held up the tunic soaking the front of her dress. She quickly dipped it in the water to rinse away the last of the soap, wringing it out and practically tossing it into the clean basket.
“I must hang these. My father will question why I had not done so.”