Aveera Nyaalie: 02 - "Playtime in the Sithen"
The torchlight bounced off the ebony marble of the receiving chamber, mimicking the echo of the deep, threatening growls of the large wolf. The creature measured nearly five feet in length, and despite the shortness of its legs, resembled nothing more than an overly large tundra wolf. However, if the casual observer looked more closely at the wide head and massive teeth, he might have been more cautious in classifying the now extinct Canis dirus as the modern Canis lupes. Of course, the visiting dignitary was a bit more interested in the young, female cub cornered against the stone of the wall.
The cub truly was a proper representative of the timber, or tundra, wolf species. With a light undercoat, a dark gray seemed to be dabbed indiscriminately along the little wolf’s spine. The paws were large, hinting at the eventual size that the Tuatha de Danaan would grow to. Most surprisingly, the tyke had her ruff raised and her teeth exposed at the full-grown adult. A teeny growl could just be heard beneath the more resonate voice of the Dire wolf.
The diplomat stepped into the room, knowing he would never be quick enough to save the cub fighting so bravely almost three hundred yards into the room but unwilling to do other than try. However, a restraining hand upon his arm stopped him. When he turned angry, crimson eyes upon the captor, Brentanon—the consort to the Queen’s daughter—was shaking his head in warning. “You do that, and Brecbrennoch, Queen of the Nyaalien sithen, will perceive you to be a threat to Aveera. Then, she will rip out your throat, and your mission to request a mate will be pointless.” Laoghaios’s husband was smiling fondly at the scene in the room, which caused the suitor to wonder at the genes he wished his eventual child to have. Nearly reading his mind, Brentanon explained, “Their playing helps Aveera learn to defend herself, and it also keeps Brecbrennoch young. Leave them be. For now, I will show you to a bed chamber.”
Before the visitor could open his mouth, a small blur of golden fur shot between their feet. The creature, smaller by half than the wolf cub, ran directly between the Dire wolf’s back legs and exited between her front ones. As the animal came to a stop beside the cub, the man could not prevent his jaw from dropping down into an oafish gape. “What is that?”
Brentanon rolled his own eyes. “That is a Felis margarita, commonly known as a Sand Cat. But, to us, that is Kaie. Apparently, she also thought the odds were against Aveera.” The kitten was hissing and swatting at the adult wolf, standing side-by-side with the cub. The man wondered idly how much she could possibly weigh. “Two and a half pounds, mostly fur,” came the answer. When the visitor narrowed his eyes at his host, Brentanon shrugged. “Everyone who sees the three of them together has the same question… Now, if you are ready, we still have the majority of the sithen to pass through before you can rest.”
The visitor could not resist turning around for one last glance into the Royal Chambers. To his surprise, the large wolf—the Queen of the Nyaalien Sithen!—was rolled onto her back with the infant animals crawling over her as though she were a jungle gym. Of course, he knew that no one would believe him if he told the story at supper.
The cub truly was a proper representative of the timber, or tundra, wolf species. With a light undercoat, a dark gray seemed to be dabbed indiscriminately along the little wolf’s spine. The paws were large, hinting at the eventual size that the Tuatha de Danaan would grow to. Most surprisingly, the tyke had her ruff raised and her teeth exposed at the full-grown adult. A teeny growl could just be heard beneath the more resonate voice of the Dire wolf.
The diplomat stepped into the room, knowing he would never be quick enough to save the cub fighting so bravely almost three hundred yards into the room but unwilling to do other than try. However, a restraining hand upon his arm stopped him. When he turned angry, crimson eyes upon the captor, Brentanon—the consort to the Queen’s daughter—was shaking his head in warning. “You do that, and Brecbrennoch, Queen of the Nyaalien sithen, will perceive you to be a threat to Aveera. Then, she will rip out your throat, and your mission to request a mate will be pointless.” Laoghaios’s husband was smiling fondly at the scene in the room, which caused the suitor to wonder at the genes he wished his eventual child to have. Nearly reading his mind, Brentanon explained, “Their playing helps Aveera learn to defend herself, and it also keeps Brecbrennoch young. Leave them be. For now, I will show you to a bed chamber.”
Before the visitor could open his mouth, a small blur of golden fur shot between their feet. The creature, smaller by half than the wolf cub, ran directly between the Dire wolf’s back legs and exited between her front ones. As the animal came to a stop beside the cub, the man could not prevent his jaw from dropping down into an oafish gape. “What is that?”
Brentanon rolled his own eyes. “That is a Felis margarita, commonly known as a Sand Cat. But, to us, that is Kaie. Apparently, she also thought the odds were against Aveera.” The kitten was hissing and swatting at the adult wolf, standing side-by-side with the cub. The man wondered idly how much she could possibly weigh. “Two and a half pounds, mostly fur,” came the answer. When the visitor narrowed his eyes at his host, Brentanon shrugged. “Everyone who sees the three of them together has the same question… Now, if you are ready, we still have the majority of the sithen to pass through before you can rest.”
The visitor could not resist turning around for one last glance into the Royal Chambers. To his surprise, the large wolf—the Queen of the Nyaalien Sithen!—was rolled onto her back with the infant animals crawling over her as though she were a jungle gym. Of course, he knew that no one would believe him if he told the story at supper.
posted by J. Mackin at 11:31 AM
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