The TwiceBorn

Need,Undefined

"Need doesn't care about being sensible."--Kalantri

Alora didn’t know what had brought on Islinn’s sudden need to be held but she didn’t question it.  She could have known if she wanted; the emotion slowly moving through her like ground fog held the answer but Alora didn’t want to delve into it.  As always, fear was there; that didn’t need to be sensed.  It connected with her as easily as a well-honed blade slid into a scabbard but she wasn’t sure what the fear was caused by.

It wasn’t her; she had hidden all of that away. There was something else though, something new and timid. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that was.  It could somehow be connected to the link she’d felt earlier and she wasn’t ready for that.

But she had to admit to herself, reluctantly, that she liked this.  Whatever this was. Islinn fascinated her, of that she was positive, but she didn’t know how much of it was that damnable light she sensed…or simply the girl herself.   She breathed in the scent of  Islinn’s blond hair and frowned.  This sudden, caring person was not who she was…and what she truly loved above all else…was what she carried inside, not what she held momentarily in her arms.

I have no greater love than my legacy.

Still though…she tightened her arms around the younger girl and enjoyed the feel of someone’s body against her own.   Skin on skin.  The bewildering miasma she always sensed when she came in contact with others was still there, bubbling along the surface, and she had to forcibly will herself not to engage with it.  It wasn’t as difficult as she thought.

It was Islinn who moved first, pulling away with just a bit of reluctance.

“The stag.”  She said as she started to get to her feet.  Alora caught her arm and pulled her back down.

“No, you rest. I’ll take care of her.”

Alora approached the stag warily.  Loki rolled one eye in her direction and she got the distinct impression he was questioning her sanity at her willingness to venture closer to the little beast.  Cautiously, she reached out and caught the reins.

 She’d never trusted the things, not since the time she’d thought it would be a grand idea to have one as a pack animal and as some extra company for Loki.  She thought she’d have a hard time finding a stag that would be willing and steady enough to be a pack animal but it had been surprisingly easy.  Too easy.

 She’d found a solid black stag at a Livery in Moonspur and it had appealed to her on a purely asthetic level.  When asked if the stag would pack, the Liveryman had suddenly found something very interesting to look at in one of the far stalls and she’d chosen to interpret his half-shrug as an enthusiastic yes.

And it had begun.  Loki took one look at his smaller twin and pitched a fit.  It took a while for Alora to get used to going down the road sideways as Loki refused to take his eyes off the animal but she found it had it’s advantages. She could see in front of her as well as behind with just a slight turn of her head.

At first, the little black beast had appeared fine.  Had taken to the packs better than she could have hoped and she’d found herself patting its fat little neck periodically while Loki wailed and carried on in the background.  But it didn’t last long.  Apparently the little bastard was just getting the lay of the land and when it figured out what was expected of it on a daily basis, the true agony had begun.  Just when she’d gotten used to being able to carry a few extra comforts for the road. 

Her new cookpot had gone flying with the first explosion and the little beast took a sadistic glee in stomping on it until it was unusable.  Her extra food, including a few special treats she simply loved but couldn’t pick up just anywhere, were ground into the road until they were nothing but mush.   The sleeveless leather vest she’d been so taken with and had purchased, along with some other bits of clothing, had been pinned down by little sharp hooves and torn to pieces by malicious little teeth.