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Foreign territory; :Renna:
Topic Started: Aug 25 2009, 06:02 AM (1,750 Views)
Nemaisare
Muse
[ *  *  *  * ]
It was dark beyond his muzzle. The shadows melting into each other, making layers of obscurity that were hard to penetrate. He whined again, snuffling the damp night air and casting about with every sense available to him. But there was no sudden unveiling of the one he was to guard, to watch, to keep safe from harm. There was no change that he could notice save that the air had cooled, and there was blood on the wind.

Thick, fresh and bitter strong. Spilled, spilling even now. He blinked, the round, dark-amber eye on his forehead closing and opening first, then came the pair below it. It was safer to always be watching. Ears twitched, ragged edges catching on the night and dragging through the sounds that were so familiar, but shouldn't have been. It was day where Sir had been, bright sun and lively little birds. Not dark shadow and danger. The whine changed to a whimper as he resumed his walk, following the trail his nose had discovered. A day and a night to find it, a day and a night too long. The ground was too weak beneath his roughly padded feet to be safe for running, so Sir moaned and panted and whined instead. Pleading in his own way for his charge to come closer faster, and to be safe. But scent held truth where sound and sight might trick him. This was a trail he had to follow.

Then, rock grew solid beneath his paws and suddenly Sir came snarling amongst small predators. His quiet approach having surprised them all, himself included. His teeth snapped at the heels of one who needed a little more encouragement to leave, then it was squealing into the dark, scaled hide flashing, flickering, gone. The large Anan watched it go, teeth bared a moment longer than necessary, ears flattened against a skull that dwarfed the one resting beneath his muzzle. Then, another whine escaped him and he nudged the limp figure, feeling a fading warmth coat his nose, smothering it with a wet, metallic tang before his tongue swept it away. Salty, cloying, dead blood. There was no response. No movement, no breath. His whiskers twitched, but it was only the wind stirring the space above the still one's mouth. No breath, no life.

A wail broke the stillness. Tumbling up against the mountains and rising along their edges into the sky, to the stars that didn't care. There was no thought within the sound, no words or even intelligence. There was only sorrow. Sorrow and fear and loss. The old man was dead.

The cry echoed strangely, as if it was willingly trapped among the peaks, and did not seek to escape. Returning again and again to haunt the night even after Sir's breath had run out and his mouth had closed. It was a good call. A death cry that would linger for the lost a little while. It felt right, to loose the emotions with his voice. But he could not stay. He did not know where here was. Familiar, but so very, very strange. One last, long whine, begging the old man to awaken, but death had found him, and death was jealous of its prize. So Sir turned away, movements slow, reluctant, but he did not look back, though he marked the place. He would remember where to come, if he passed this way again.

With the dangerous ground behind him now, and the earth hard beneath him, Sir's gait was quicker as he moved away. His legs moving in a rhythm that carried him swiftly, smoothly, so that he flowed across the ground and over fallen trees or rooted boulders. His form flickering in the play of shadow and moonlight over the land. His eyes gleaming as he sought some sign of that which had brought him and the small one here. Desperate to discover that he was not alone, was not abandoned to this place he did not like. But all he found was sleeping shapes, huddled hides and sticks and stone that made small hills where the ground seemed flat, and larger walls where such should not have been. The sight slowed his reckless run, breaking down his panic before it truly surfaced and making him scramble to a stop.

There was smoke, acrid burning and the sharp sting of fire invisible to his eyes. But it was there, wood was there, crackling and hissing its warnings, and it made him wary. So, Sir watched, but he was not frightened enough to turn aside. His path was straight, and these strange shelters were not so unfamiliar as the creatures he had worried from their scavenging. Lowering his muzzle, he crept forward, circling each dwelling place with a ghostly quiet, breath warm against the walls, though he left only his footprints behind, and, on one stone, a smear of dark liquid that would dry to rust. When he came to the great heights and knew the ground continued on the other side, he bunched his muscled beneath him and leapt, scrambling and scuffing his claws against the top and sides as he struggled gracelessly over the edge.

Sir landed in the light cast by a sputtering torch, unaware of the way it revealed his presence to any eyes that might be watching that particular side wall. Creatures lived here, as they lived in those shelters the other side of the wall. There was another wall that had caught his attention, and he drifted softly towards it, long legs bent in a crouch, huge paws settling his weight into the ground and bending grass with each step. The firelight flickered across his flanks and back. The thick fur there full of dark gold, black, silver, grey and brown, his ruff tipped and lightened by white. His eyes were a triangle of green witchlight as he stared upwards, scenting the air.
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Renna
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Fairy Princess
[ *  *  * ]
"Oooh, that's a good fortune!"

The giggles filled the warm night air, a group of girls huddled together beneath the light of the torches. They were playing Fortune, of course--fairly simple little games meant to predict the future. Tossing die, randomly opening books, laying out cards, and the like...nothing fancy, really, but certainly fun for young women wondering what life had in store for them. Siana, as future Ardi, was doing the honors of telling fortunes to the four other young women to pass the Brenin's school. What need did she have to know her future? She knew it already. A white dress and a crown; she would be the wife of a king and the lover of a god, and come the equinoxes she would conceive his children. The very thought of such a glorious place sent a shiver down the future Ardi's spine, but she hid her own eagerness for the sake of making her companions laugh. She hoped very bright futures for all of them, and while none could ever reach her new place among the Seanachta, who was to say that the love of a good and ordinary man was not almost as wonderful as that of the great Cernunnos? Sia tugged herself out of her thoughts and grinned, nudging the blushing girl beside her with a little laugh. "What's this? Saoirse blushes!"

A chorus of jeers lifted up as Siana laid the cards down, face-up. "What, you are ashamed to have a farmer husband and six children? My da is a farmer, you know. I liked tending the sheep."

Little Saoirse blushed more as the golden beauty Achren put her arm about her shoulders in solidarity. "No, it's not that he's a farmer! It's only that your cards say nothing about him being handsome."

This drew a howl of laughter from the other girls, ending with the future Ardi cuddling the youngest of their number to her. "I'm sure anyone who marries you will be very, very handsome. He'll have a handsome heart, certain."

Achren danced in, blue eyes snapping. "And handsome hands! You will have to embrace him an awful lot to get six babies."

An awed silence fell over the merry crowd as the candidates mulled this over, each wondering about the magic that gave girls children from the touching of hands and lips. Poor Saoirse was scarlet red, now, Achren smirking easily in her direction, but the quieter Eilys interjected with a completely different subject. "Well, what do we know of any of that? Siana passed us all on that test. I don't know, hand-holding doesn't sound so bad." She blushed sweetly. "And with someone else we won't be tested; we can stand and touch however we like."

Saoirse felt brave enough to throw in her two cents. "Yes, that will be nice. I couldn't ever get the hang of that one thing we were taught to do. It was a little embarrassing...I don't know how Sia managed to learn it."

Siana blushed, too, and shrugged her shoulders. "Well...I guess I told myself that it was what Cernunnos wanted. I mean, it was odd, but then I thought--he created us. He's already seen our bodies; why shouldn't we present them to Him? And then I practiced, that's all. It's a dance to show the god how beautiful we are, so he can enjoy his creations. Not so embarrassing that way."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." The chorus sounded like four girls had just had an epiphany, all of them immediately bouncing up to practice the undulating walk that had probably cost them the title of Ardi. Soon the solemn quiet was noisy with laughter again, good-natured teasing rising up as the graceful young women stumbled or made faces at each other. All in all, it was a late night out under the stars, a typical sleepover, and Siana was just leaning back to laugh when It came.

One moment, there was nothing, the next; a great wolf-shape glinting in the firelight before her. As one the women froze, motionless with horror as they stared Death in the face. At first, Siana could only wonder how the Abensai warrior had gotten in. The walls of Caer Dynhal were easily twenty feet high; surely even the Viho couldn't jump that high. They'd never jumped that high before. But who else could this great figure be? The wolf-shape, standing six feet at the shoulder with a jaw easily strong enough to crush bone. Dim shouts rang off; the guards, but Siana barely noticed. She was Ardi, and this was an enemy. "...Get behind me."

Her words sounded like they had been spoken through water, but the young woman had strength enough to move forward and put herself between the great wolf and the other girls. Oh, heavens, three eyes. Three eyes. And he was huge.

The doe felt the shudder go through her soul and straight to her heart, but there was nothing to do but take another step forward and stretch out her hand to press it to the monster's head. She couldn't be afraid. If she had to die now, she could not be afraid. "Take me, Viho Matoskah. Take the Brenin's Ardi; just...just leave them..." She faltered. Since when had the Viho had three eyes? But it could be no one else. The Abensai already knew how to delve into the minds of their victims, finding their fears and pulling them to the surface so they were immobolized by terror. Why should the great wolf-chief not have three eyes? It would fit him. It would fit.
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Nemaisare
Muse
[ *  *  *  * ]
Laughing. Shrill, high sounds. Females. Sir's ears twitched as he tilted his head about, searching for the source of the noise. They were nice sounds, for all they made him nervous with their high pitch. He flinched at a suddenly loud squeal, blinking as their forms danced and wove enticingly between each other. Slim, silver shapes against an all consuming blackness. Brighter than the wall that glowed behind them, softer than the earth that glimmered at their feet. Gentler than the invisible heat that came from the wood growing in the stone walls. He crept towards them, curious, frightened and entranced.

They were pretty things, these two-leggeds, but so delicate. It worried him, that there were no males here to keep watch. Their scent was on the air, but he could see no others. And Sir was watching, walls were not safe to stay behind for long. Dark nose quivering, he quested further towards them, slinking almost on his belly. His fur shone, honey smooth and frosted in the torchlight. A light that flickered too, on the red covering his muzzle.

Then, those wide eyes, big, he saw, in faces with blurred features, turned to capture him. Silence fell, fear rose, making his hackles bristle with tense warning. Edges of metal, sour sweat, thick air, all surrounded him, coming from the females. They were frightened. The Anan rose swiftly to a greater height, the tips of his canines suddenly white against the dark of his lower lip as his jowls rose in the vaguest of snarls. What had frightened them? He would fight it, if he must, to keep them safe. He would fight, but he could not battle against something unseen, something unknown. More sound now, breaking the stillness. Metal scraping free of sheathes. That sound he knew. Males, two-legged men, shouting one to another, that he knew too. They were warning each other, calling out about the danger. The threat inside the walls. There, he had known it was not safe.

He saw them, flashes of more silver movement at the edge of his vision. They were coming closer, the men, but still, he could not see what it was threatening them, and it made him remember his caution. He shrank down again, not too small, but enough. He was no threat, but he did not wish the danger to think that. Then, words brought his attention back to the females where they were gathered together, still fearful. His ragged ears, large on his head, flicked forward then back, uncertain, wary. She did not speak to him. They were brave, these girls, to stand for the threat, but they were watching him, not the ground where danger could come. Sir's nose twitched at that realization, and he chuffed the breath he'd been holding for a growl. They feared him!

Why?

Brave one, small one, sweet voice. She smelled of deer and wind in the leaves, sweet earth and sweet grass. She was little different from the other females in appearance, save for height and hair, for he saw only silver shapes. But she was brave, stepping close. So, he would be brave too. Sir lowered his head as she lifted her hand, closing his forehead eye to keep it safe from her fingers. His ears flicked upright again, listening avidly to her request. Then, his head tilted to the side, a low whine easing from his throat in confusion. She wished him to take her? Where? How? He could take only himself over the walls. But the males were closer now, shouting danger, threats, rage. Too close for peace of mind.

Sir spun and snarled, lips writhing back, fangs revealed, bright, ready. Ears pinned back, his tail wavering a warning as the rumble rose and fell in his chest. The fur along his spine rose to make him bigger than he was already and his eyes flashed, light, dark, fierce. He would not relinquish his place before the females. This sweet one wished something of him and he would understand.

-Back. Back! BACK! Too close. Back!- The thought tore from his mind in a chanting command. The last cry emphasized by a quick, jerking snap at one guard who did not move away quick enough. His breath heating the man's suddenly pale face. He eyed the circle of weapons closely, snarl deepening into a thunderous growl as they came to an impasse. Sharp silver, glittering painfully close, the blades arrayed against him were difficult to turn away from. Yet Sir did so, for he would not stand there all night. He rolled his eyes back to look again at the brave one, with her sweet scent. But he could not turn all the way. Still, he watched her as his confusion quested outward, seeking an answer.

-Take sweet one?- The question was accompanied by a faint image, a silhouette of silver. Him and her walking away into the darkness. -Why?-
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Renna
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Fairy Princess
[ *  *  * ]
The thundering growl given by the great wolf made Siana flinch and pull her hand away, instinctively huddling back with the other girls while Sir whipped his massive head about to snarl at the guards. It all happened so fast! Before the girls could even whimper, they were surrounded by men with drawn swords; then just as quickly left helpless again when the creature gave his order to step back. Saoirse let out a sob of fright as Sir's head swiveled to regard the Ardi with his witch-light eyes. Eilys clung to Achren. Achren clung to Bronwyn, and Bronwyn clung to the weeping Saoirse. Siana stood alone, only because to move back would be to invite the Viho onto all five of them at once. For the first time the doe found herself regretting being chosen as Ardi; for now she finally understood that although an Ardi might want to cry for her mother she could never be a child again. It was a realization that came with more than a little pain, but Sia swallowed and stepped forward again, because the Abensai wanted her. There was nothing else to do.

She wondered what the Viho would do with her. The Brenin would not pay a demanded ransom; not with four other girls to replace the one he'd lost. Would he eat her? It seemed a waste, to come all this way only to feast. What, then--

The Sacrifice.

Red curls trembled as Siana shook, wrapping her arms about her shoulders and trying to stand tall. Of course. Every year someone was taken; taken and slaughtered for the strange and violent wolf-god. As far as anyone knew it had always been a warrior slain; a strong man with strong blood to gift to the wolves' Creator, but maybe things were changing now. Maybe. Matoskah ibn'Wanahton now had three eyes, why should he not decide to sacrifice a helpless girl; the Ardi of his enemy? It was clear, now, so Siana Adani stepped forward with head bent to her doom.

That was when the great beast whined, and the voice wove through her mind and into her heart, and it was all so different she gasped. Surely this wasn't right. The Viho couldn't sound like this; so confused. So concerned. So sweet. And the picture, there; wolf and girl, walking side by side, together.

The Ardi's eyes filled in relief and joy and she fell on the strange creature, caressing the brindled fur with soft hands and pressing kisses on his head and neck. "Oh!" He'd called her 'sweet one', and whatever he was, she loved him for saying it. The voice in her mind was beautiful and not at all Abeni, and life was still hers to live, and she would truly be sweet to the stranger in her thanks. "Oh!"

Siana tore herself away long enough to wave at the guards, the tear-trails still glinting on her cheeks. "He's not one of them! He's--" She broke off, grey eyes peering into a strange set of three, then the girl put her arms around the beast's neck and pressed her cheek to his. The Ardi did not speak, somehow feeling that words would spoil the sweet voice in her mind; instead she kept her face close in the fur and let her own thoughts do the speaking as she rubbed at a ragged ear. I have an enemy that looks like you. Big wolf, big teeth, thunder-growl. I say, 'take me', so only I am eaten by my enemy and my girls left alone. I say 'take me' to protect them. You are not like him.

There was a pause, then a breath of spring-scented wind as the shape that was Siana glowed faintly golden. Siana.

Another pause, during which the little hands worked down to rub at Sir's neck and chest. Who you?

A guard hissed in his breath, not liking the sight of the woman in his charge caressing over a three-eyed wolf as she would a dog. The men had stepped back, but none had lowered their weapons; indeed most were poised very strongly on whatever sort of wolf was far too close to the most deer-spirited of all the Seanachta. Siana saw this and moved, shifting so her body stood directly over the Creature's heart. You feel like friend.

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Nemaisare
Muse
[ *  *  *  * ]
A soft breath, a quiet step. His body twitched at the sudden contact, unexpected as it was. Lips pulling back, neck bending around and ears flattening before he could stop the instinctual motion. But then, even a dog will protect itself, and, with the males still close, Sir had good reason to fear. A whining yip broke from him in apology as he settled his fright and his body down to a manageable level for the small female. His tail quivered appeasement to the males who had surely seen his first, shameful, reaction.

Her touch was a caress of ancestral memory. A thing rarely experienced, but known all the same. Comforting. Pleasant. Perfectly enjoyable. When the sweet one stepped back to speak with the males, Sir took the opportunity to peer over and around Siana’s slender shoulders at the other females. Bright eyes happy, oddly satisfied. The old one had not touched him so. They were still frightened. He could smell it. Gathered together, the girls reminded him of little birds, made him hungry. His tongue swept over his lips, cleaning away the blood. But they were not food. They were a part of his charge. The Anan were to protect two-leggeds. Eating them was not protecting them.

Then, he was looking at the sweet one again. Her words gone, replaced by her eyes. Shining grey, sun bright silver, wide and sweet. He could not look into them long. Instead, he searched her face with his tongue for the wet salt there, two quick swipes all she let him manage before they were delicate cheek to rubbery jowl. He froze, afraid he might bring her harm. The slow thoughts, soft, loose, timid, brought his ears up again. He sank back on his haunches to listen. Sweet one was thinking.

A puff of air burst into the night as he huffed his agreement, leaning into the fingers massaging his ear. Sir was not like this big thunder wolf. He had not known she’d wanted him to eat her. He sent her back the image her thoughts created. A man with a wolf’s head, three eyed now, mouth open to show his fangs. Very strange. Not right. Then, himself again. Big, strong, all dog. The proper shape. He snorted. -Fighting not for hungry ones. No food.- It was true, prey fighting back would not make a good meal.

He snuffled a deep breath of her scent as the sweet one gave her name. So light. A reflection of her as he saw her echoed back as she’d offered it. Earth and cool stone, sweet sap, calm voice, quiet words. ‘Take me. Leave them.’ Strong voice, silver shape, curved and soft and fine. Siana.-Sweet one.- His name for her. Summer wind and sweetness. Sir groaned, voice stuttering in his throat, eyes lidding with pleasure as her hands soothed tired muscles. Pressing against them, encouraging her gentle efforts. Into her mind, came his scent. Animal, warmth in winter, strong smells hard to ignore. And wrapped around them was the old one’s voice, speaking a sound. -Sir-

Finally, the males were forgotten. The Anan slumped to his side, dragging Siana’s hands after him. Quickly, he bared his chest, rolling onto his back, limbs bent, large paws flopping, useless. His three eyes winked dark then bright, to dark again, flashing joy. -Friend. Friend, friend, friend, friend, friend.- His tail thumped the ground with the rhythm, sweeping the grass lower with every pass. He was glad she thought so. Glad he had found her and her females. So, pleased with himself, he sought the reward of her knowing fingers and ignored the guards.
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Current threads...
The Children's Crusades
Foreign Territory
At the Court of the Princess
Illiminati
The Sindalan Woods
A Seedling Search
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Renna
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Fairy Princess
[ *  *  * ]
The Ardi was already smiling at Sir's version of the Viho (thanks to the leftover giggles from his licks to her face), but her smile stretched even wider when the great dog insisted on referring to her as 'sweet one'. The young Queen pressed a gentle kiss to Sir's ear as he looked up at her, breathing in the thick, musky scent of Animal and warmth. It was a comforting smell, one Adani remembered from her childhood as a farmer's daughter. Tending to the sheep and horses, huddling close together as the snows fell outside. Those days seemed very long ago now, after six years locked away in the Brenin's school, but Siana still remembered firelight and snow. She remembered many things, and being close to this strange Sir-creature brought even more memories swirling up from the depths of oblivion.

For no reason at all the girl found herself suddenly wishing to cry, but then Sir had flopped over, wriggling happily on the grass as he begged to have his belly rubbed. Siana's tears flashed quick as a wink into a delighted laugh, and she fell to her knees to smooth her hands up and down the soft fur. "Yes, friend! Siana and Sir are friends." The Queen grinned and laughed again, then buried her fingers deeper into his side and rubbed as she turned her head away from the ecstatic dog and to the other witnesses. "Do you need any more proof he isn't one of them? An Abensai warrior would never flop about like this."

The guards did not seem to approve, or even necessarily to agree, but they grunted to each other and took a step back to give their Ardi room with her new pet. The girls stared silent, a moment, but at the continued mantra of 'friend, friend, friend, friend, friend' all four moved forward to fall beside the spectral dog, thudding down on delicate knees to take turns rubbing his tummy and ears. Hesitation quickly transformed to delight, and in only a few minutes Sir's band of females where drying their tears and chirping happily to each other about how cute he was. Siana kept her place of honor beside the great creature's head, bending every now and again to peer into the set of amber eyes now blinking rapidly in sheer bliss. -What is Sir? Where is he from? We have never seen a Sir before.
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Nemaisare
Muse
[ *  *  *  * ]
With his desires of the moment seen to, Sir was perfectly content to remain lying on his back as long as the girls were willing to pet him. Or until his hunger grew too strong. Whichever came first. The guards were of secondary importance now, noted, but part of the background. Sweet one knew them, and they respected Sweet one, that was enough for him. There was momentary indignation at her choice of words. Sir did not flop, he was not a fish! No, what Sir was doing, was begging shamelessly. But it was a short-lived affront as the others joined their friend around him. Awkward wriggling became brief contact with each and every one of them. His flanks and their knees. An acknowledgement of their presence.

Sighing happily, the Anan then settled into contentment. Given his size, there was plenty of him to reach. -Is good Sir is big.- Philosophical musing of a practical sort. -More room for scratches.- He liked scratches, and pets, and rubs. He liked their closeness too. Solid comfort, familiar as his brothers sleeping around him. His brothers though, did not tickle his nose with their fur. Sir sneezed. Emphatically.

Then, her questions crept into his mind. The curiosity lacing them begging an answer. Head tilting, he turned his eyes back to the sweet one’s face, tongue flicking over his nose. Feelings shifted from his mind to hers, shared among all the females. Confusion. Loss. Unfamiliarity. Fright. Alone. -Sir is lost.- Lost was always a possibility. Those his family protected walked the realms. There was danger; it was why they’d asked the Anan to join them when they went. For Sir, the experience was a new one. He was too young when they’d left their own world behind to remember much of the crossing. He’d not followed a two-legged through the portals before. First time, last time. The old one was dead.

To answer, Sir remembered. Memories held history, and history would answer Siana’s queries. They were not his memories, they were an Anan’s. All that the Anan knew, every Anan knew, passed by blood, by shared moments. He could not speak the words to explain himself or his kind. His kind had no spoken language. There was never any need. Theirs was the language of thought, shaped through the senses, through feelings, through emotions. Through memory. It was those minds that received it that gave the thoughts words. So, they borrowed, unknowing. That was how he answered Siana. He let her experience for herself their history.

They had been wild once. Their purpose to live, to survive. An old memory. Claimed by no Anan still living. There was a vagueness to it suggesting antiquity. Running, hunting, fighting, mating. Wolf memories, dragged through time, the past left behind. A figure, silver, tall, stranger. First contact, first knowing, meeting, between two-leggeds and wolf. It was they who had known speech, who had shown the Anan power. Sir remembered the hand that settled upon his ancestor’s head, long fingers, so easy to break, so tempting to bite. He remembered the trembling of muscles. The fear, the breath of magic. The thoughts that flowered into being. A voice, deep, quiet, naming. Anan That one was the shaper. The changer.

He remembered stone halls, built long and high. Tall, for the people and their dogs, for them. He remembered fire. An invisible warmth, stirring the air, inviting, threatening. Sleeping before it, lying at their masters’ feet. Hands gentling, calming, playing, beating. Voices calling, laughing, commanding, singing, echoing, harsh and gentle, stern and kind. He remembered satisfaction: warm hearth, full belly, strong pack. Each protecting the other. Sometimes, more Anan than two-leggeds, other times, more two-leggeds than Anan. He remembered many years, many moments. Of feasting, of famine, of cold and warmth. All special, all past. None his own. Each memory was distant and close, like a story told so many times it was no longer separate from his own life. They grew clearer as the distance between now and then diminished.

The two-leggeds began to die. Children first, small and fragile. Crying, crying children, crying mothers, crying fathers. Great sorrow. They all died. Sickness. The Anan could not fight sick death. They stayed, curled in corners beside empty hearths. Running through woods to bring back meat when the hunters were gone. Watching them die. The Anan did not die. They did not leave and they did not die. They stayed, with bones and mice, keeping safe the halls. There was nothing else. The walls crumbled, stones shifted, trees grew. They stayed. Feral, lost, uncertain. He remembered ruins, ruins and waiting. The two-leggeds did not come and did not come. But the Anan would not forget.

Then, they did come, first one, than several. Small, like children. The Anan watched them. Strangers, speaking, asking, sharing. Sir remembered confusion, then wonder.

Suddenly, the remembering changed. It grew hazy, the shapes blurred, the scents all of earth and Mother. Dirt walls on every side and fur to curl against. Milk, warm and filling. Meat, wet and tough. Swinging above the ground, hanging limp. A hole in the air. Growing stronger, more certain, the memories were Sir’s own now, as he grew, playing with his brothers, watching his grown kin, watching the two-leggeds. Learning to hunt, learning two-legged sounds. Then, a flash of sorrow as the old man smiled up at him and led him through another hole in the air. Fear and desperation. Searching, alone, lost, strange. Found. The old one’s body; still, cold, dead. Then joy, squirming puppy pleasure. Sweet one.

Each memory was made of the silver and black of Sir’s sight, full of scents and sounds and touch. Some were joined to emotions, giving them a keenness that set them in their proper place above the others. One for each change within their history. Fierce joy. Curiosity. Love and bindings of mutual satisfaction. Shame and sorrow.

Finally, Sir blinked, one then two. It was hard, to keep it all in order in his mind, but he had managed, mostly, for the sweet one. She had asked, so he had answered. What he was, where he was from. That she had learned, perhaps, more than she’d needed to know was irrelevant. She had also learned what she wanted to know. Which was all that mattered.

He woofed and batted at her arm with a heavy paw. Eyes still bright, an eager companion. Particularly since she did not seem to mind petting him. Finished with that, Sir’s mind moved on to other things. She was Sweet one, but the others held no identity yet. It bothered him, to know a thing existed without a name. So, his eyes roved the group around him, head shifting to facilitate such an action. To each he sent a name, idea and scent combined. To Saoirse, wet flowers in rain. -Little one.- To Eilys, winter and rock. -Gentle one- Her touch was as light as mist against his side. To Achren, pine and shadows. -Bird.- She was quick, her laugh was nice. To Bronwyn, earth and herbs. -Quiet one.- She had moved softest among the others when she came to sit beside him.

They were good names, for the moment. But names among Anan change as often as they didn’t without two-legged sounds. Sir had kept his simply because the two-leggeds had given voice to it, made it into a word.
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There was widespread laughter at Sir's declaration that his size meant there was 'more room for scratches', the young ladies falling on him for extra cuddles as a reward for being cute. Scratches and rubs abounded over the next few minutes, each girl giving the Anan what loving attention he craved. The deer-maidens were free with their praise, for over the course of three minutes the three-eyed creature was told 'good dog' at least once by each maid, kissed thrice, and rubbed ten times over. But when the Anan began to tell his story, one by one the hands slowed until the girls knelt still and silent by his side.

It was a good story, and a long one--one that delved back centuries to give the history of the strange three-eyed dogs. Siana listened with interest, but as Sir shared the death of the two-leggers with them she had soon slipped into tears. One day soon, very soon, she would be Queen, and maybe it was that her own people would suffer such pain. The sight of the children wailing for help; their distraught parents; the faithful Anan waiting through days and months and years....well, it was too much. Soft-hearted Siana tightened her arms around Sir's neck and kissed him liberally on the head, whispering to him softly as the story unwound itself. "Good dog. Good boy. Good." She petted down his neck to suppress her shudder at the ruin of the great buildings and the great civilization that had built them. What horror. But it must have been a little comfort, at the end, to have these great warm friends there always. Sia wondered if the last one had gone mad with grief and loneliness, or if he had contented himself to lie beside his favorites of the Anan. She could see him, the strongest of them all; a great bearded man who lost friend, and family, and everyone else--and then his own body turned against him, and he lay himself down among the Anan until the final breath rattled against his ribs. Siana didn't know if he was imagination or memory. It didn't matter. The sight was piteous, and she grieved for him.

Then the memories changed, sorrow fading into newborn emotions of hope and discovery. The deer-maid brightened at Sir's puppy-memories, her tears drying on her cheeks as she shared with him the wonder of coming into the world. Of course there was another death, more grief, but then the great hound moved into the present, and his happiness was so great that Siana had to smile. She coddled Sir's head in her hands and laid her cheek to his again, sharing his happiness in a friend and silently thanking him for the comfort of his presence. "...Good dog. Sir is not lost any more. Sir is home here, with us." Sia scratched his ear. "And we will look for the rest of them for you, so soon you will never be lost again."

She hugged him tightly, then closed her eyes to share her own history with her new companion.

Thousands of years ago, world ancient, air still beneath autumn trees. A great figure of a man, stepping out shining from the air; a powerful man with the shape of antlers on his head. A group of maidens, weaving by the river. Five maidens, one man, one kiss to each; then the girls were crowned with light and swelling bellies. A great hall, man and maids on a dias as other humans looked on in awe. The change of seasons, babies; mortal and divine. Then years and years of marriages and children and visits by the God, then a man taking deer-form and back again. Sia shared with Sir the Seanachta, their scents and ways and traditions; the people who understood the earth and the gentle creatures in it. Herself, a very small silver shape, a child, gathered within a group of females; all the females together brought to the great palace of the Brenin--the descendant of Cernunnos, now ruling over her people. Six years of females-only, six years of learning and friends, and then the Choosing. Ten girls left. Nervous as they stood in line and the mighty lord looked them over; five left elated when the Brenin chose them. More weeks of learning, the last five learning dances without clothes and ways to stand and touch to make the Brenin happy. A final performance, Siana's well-rehearsed dance; the memory innocent of anything but a desire to do well. Then the final choosing--with she, Siana, to be Queen of all the deer-people. Wife of the Brenin. Wife of the god.

'Sweet one' stroked Sir's face, her voice soft. "You must never hunt a deer here, or horse. We don't eat much meat, but if you're hungry and you chase a deer, you could kill one of our fighters unwitting." She breathed into his fur. "There are sheep, though, sheep and fish and birds for a hungry Sir. And the wolves, but I don't want you to eat them."

The girl cuddled to her dog, showing him the enemy she had mistaken him for. A man, dark-haired and golden-skinned, leaping in the air and landing hard as a wolf. A great russet wolf, with dozens behind him, all as big as Sir. All menacing. All running to the Seanachta, stealing hard metal and biting and eating and enjoying the blood. Viho Matoskah. And his people, the Abensai. They were born of a wolf-god long ago, and they like to hunt my people. They like to steal from us then kill, and sometimes eat. And every year they take one and sacrifice him--tie him with ropes and put him on a stone and cut his throat, so he cannot fight back. They are bad. They are men and know what they do is evil but they do it anyway. We fear the wolves....but we do not eat them, because it is Wrong. It is a Bad Thing to Do.

Siana flicked at Sir's ear, while 'Bird' and 'Little One' looked on. But you will keep us safe, I know it. You will be a good friend. We will love you, because--

A soft tread on the grass, and Siana whirled to look up at a golden-haired man, faceless beneath the brightness of his crown. She gasped and moved to her knees, bowing her head humbly as the man smelled hot of lust and anger. His voice was water-smooth, but his blood was thrumming, and the pulse increased as he studied the five women kneeling before him. "...And what is this?"

Siana offered out her hands. "A dog. A friend. May I keep him, lord?"

The Brenin's stare, cold and hard. "Yes, sweet, only once we prove that he does not turn into a man as the Abensai. No dog grow this large. No dog has three eyes." A strong hand shot out and tugged the Ardi out of the way, and immediately the swords and spears were back on the dog. The tall man smirked and moved languidly forward, shaking off the protesting Siana to drop on one knee before Sir and stare unafraid into the three eyes. He did not speak. [/b]You know thoughts, beast? Well, then, know mine. I know what you are. And you have thirty seconds to take your man's form. If at the end of thirty seconds, you are still a beast, my guards will jump on you and hold you still. No moving. You will then watch me mate with the one you like--my Ardi. She is mine and I will defile her and cut her throat before I let a filthy Abeni have a taste. And when that is done? Sharp swords, in you. Pain. Tearing. Blackness. You understand? Thirty seconds. Change.[/b]

With that he smiled and stood away.
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Nemaisare
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A wonderful place this was. Sir nuzzled Siana as her words gave him hope. He did not know it was a small hope. It was enough to keep him still as the history of the Seanachta crept through his mind, bright and glowing. There were startling moments of colour. A thing he did not understand. As fascinating as the story itself. The antler man, deerman, was as tall as those two-leggeds the Anan had lost. As though it was real, present, he barked at the man, whining and wagging his tail. The man, the memory of the man, did not care to turn. Sir was left eagerly yearning. Much of what she showed him he understood only as two-legged ways. Strange and mysterious. He could not understand them, but for the sweet one, he would obey them. He liked seeing her dance. Cat-grace, bird-light, water-shine. Water was the only substance from which the Anan could see the light. Siana's brightness reminded him of it.

Hunger filled him when she spoke of the hunt. His jaws opened, panting, teeth lining the lips. He did not move otherwise. He would be a good dog. Like she asked. Sheep were filling. Tasty, without the wool. Wolves were not. He growled at those images. Hurting his sweet one's people. It rumbled through his chest in time with those thoughts, growing louder as the wolves grew worse. No, Sir didn't like them. He twitched his ear away from her fingers as he would have twitched away a bothersome fly. Huffing his agreement. Head turning to look upon this newcomer. He wrapped the girls in his sense of protection. In strength, in love, in loyalty and no danger. It was what he knew. With him, they had protection. Then the sweet one was startled, worried.

Sir lunged onto his front, twisting, teeth gleaming, ready. This stranger was full of unpleasantness. He could smell it. Heat swept from him, heart beating loud in the Anan's ears. Sir knew those signs, males suffered much from them. Grew dangerous for others. But Sweet one was not scared, the males did not react to his threat. He kept growling. Low. But did not attack. He blinked. -Wolf have three- The questing thought broke before it finished, shattering in Sir's mind with shock. Too late. He should have attacked.

The large dog lunged, meeting the blades. Cringing and whining. Fighting his wish to tear through the males. They were two-leggeds, they were Seanachta, like the sweet one. He wasn't to harm Seanachta. She had said. The Brenin's challenge went unanswered, Sir's eyes staring away, to Sweet one, to Bird and Little one. To the males, the shining metal, the wood. Those thoughts though, made him bristle. Ears back, head lowering. He did not understand the notion of defilement. The disgust and cut throat were enough. He returned the smile, harsh, grating. A snarl with it. He was no longer lying down. His muscles quivering, he was crouched, to spring. Sharp silver ignored. The threat to him was unimportant, this one was not to harm the sweet one. Rage and fear coiled in his mind.

A sting. A flybite irritation. Change, that male said. Sir did not know how. He winced and spun, snapping his teeth over hard metal, bending it and cutting his lips, his gums, his tongue. More pain, he yelped. Loosing the blade as it slid through his mouth. The spear was easier when he caught the wood. It snapped and splintered, breaking in two. The guard who held it cried out, falling back. Sir's snarl thickened, the snap of his head spraying blood. He was not to harm them, threat though they'd become. It worried his mind, angering him more than the circle of weapons. Than the sting of his cuts. One came too close to close the circle. Sir swung at him, hand/paw striking the guard in the stomach, numbing the pad and pushing the man back.

Confusion. He sank back on his haunches, back hunching as he balanced on his hind legs. Arms held before him. Strange. He whimpered, curling the short fingers into claws. -Sweet one. Scared.- Sir cast about for the girl who had called him friend, whining. He was taller now, larger. No change to his face or fur, his tail remained tucked in submission. Blood dripped down his chin, soaking into the paler fur of his throat. In trying to soothe the pain on his lips, he stung the cut on his tongue. It hurt, he whimpered. But he had changed. As that one had ordered. Changed as he fought. Shifted from the need. Sir's eyes sought the Brenin. He bared his reddened teeth. Dropped forward, lifted his tail, glared. -Changed. You hurt Sweet one. I kill.-
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"Stop it!"

Siana watched horrified as the men surrounded her new pet, trying to push her way through the circle. "Oh, please, don't--wait--" But Sir lunged, leaving the royal maidens gasping outside the battle. Siana darted forward again, this time trying to convince Sir to calm down, but she was too late. Far, far too late. The initial lunge had sent her guards into a frenzy, and the Anan into a panic as their weapons poked at him. The Ardi clapped her hands over her mouth, unable even to breathe. This was it. Her sweet friend (she'd known for all of ten minutes) was going to die, and she could do nothing to stop it. Sir's pained whines drove straight to her heart, and as one guard fell Siana leaped forward. In a flash she was at his side, one hand stretched out to rest on the great dog's side. But then Sir shuddered, and her hand froze quivering in the air.

Sia gasped and stepped away, hands rising uncertainly to her mouth again while the Anan's form twisted and rose. Surely Sir wasn't Abensai. Surely not. That would be too horrible; he was so kind and to take man-form now would be a death sentence. "Sir! No, don't--"

But the change stopped, and the three amber eyes looked plaintively over at hers as Sir gave a frightened whimper. Sweet one. Scared.

Adani's heart broke then. Siana stepped forward and took the half-man in her arms, wrapping little arms around his torso in an attempt at comfort. "I'm here. Don't be scared." The Ardi's cheeks were wet, and she stroked a hand over a furry shoulder. "Don't be scared. You're safe with me."

Siana held him tight as the Brenin stepped forward, and all at once everything clicked. The girl gasped, then flung out her arms and fell to her knees. "No, please stop! This is a mistake." One hand touched at Sir's paw, the other grasped the Brenin's fingers. Peaceful Siana halted both creatures with a sweet smile. "Sir, this is my betrothed and our Master, the Brenin. I will soon be his wife." She gave the dog a soothing pat. "He won't hurt me; he thinks that you might. My lord Brenin, this is Sir. He is Anan, and he won't hurt me, although he thinks that you might." Sia kissed the stag's hand, looking up at him hopefully. "Thank you both for your concern, but we're all friends here."

The Brenin did not respond for a moment, gazing coolly down at the kneeling girl before he ventured a question. "And what, exactly, is an Anan?"

One of the guards set his weapon down, a handsome blonde fellow with kind green eyes. Bronwyn, too, shuffled forward, speaking up in meek tones as the warrior pulled his tunic away from his shoulder. "I think the Anan are the great spectral dogs of our stories, my lord." The guard pointed to his shoulder, showcasing a knotted tattoo with a dog's head. "As milady says, Lord. Messengers of the gods, they are; it is a sign of great favor to you and the Ardi that one comes here now. Cernunnos blesses you."

The Brenin eyed the handsome guard a moment in dislike, but stepped away to clasp his hands behind his back. "in that case, he may stay." He turned away, proud head high. "Hopefully he won't prove too great a disruption."

The young guard bowed, the others stepped away, and after what seemed an eternity of fear maidens and dog were alone once again. Immediately all five laid soothing hands on Sir, cooing to him in distress as the gentle girls surveyed his wounds.

"Oh, poor Sir!"
"Sweet thing, only trying to protect us. Poor baby."
"He was so brave."
"I wish we could kiss it better!"

Last of all came Siana, resting a worried hand on Sir's head. "Sir? If you can change back, we'll go inside and clean you up...and find you dinner. We love you so much." And she kissed a fuzzy ear.
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Nemaisare
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Siana's distress worried him. The sweet one should not be so frightened, it was wrong. So he'd fought against it, but that only made her more frightened. And now he was strange. Neck bending, Sir curled in and nosed Sweet one's head. The comfort she offered a welcome calm. His breath brushed warm across her neck, thick and strong. Wet salt on her cheeks, gentle words, quiet voice. Poor Sweet one. This was worse than knowing the old one was gone. This was knowing he was the one bringing those bitter tears to her eyes. He'd only meant to keep her safe. No time for comfort now, the man was coming. He shook her off as gently as he could, answering the Brenin's threat.

A touch stilled him, lowering his snarl to a growl, rumbling, warning, but no longer a threat. Sweet one wished peace. He would wait, watch. The man was dangerous, terrible in his power. Siana liked him, wished to please him. Believed him to be a protector too. Sir did not.

Still, her touch and word would keep him still. For now. He remembered how to hunt, he would wait. His promise was truth, and he would keep it if ever the man harmed Siana. His fine, beautiful sweet one.

Words passed amongst the others, he paid them no heed, glaring at the Brenin with all three eyes. Head low to protect his throat, intent quite clear. The man would step wrong and he would have him then. Sweet one would know what he was then. The danger in him. And she would not stop his teeth from breaking through that skin, from crushing the skull and bringing death to the danger, to the threat. She could not see it, but he could. Sir would watch, and wait. At this moment, he had learned hatred, and it swirled into a calm pool at the back of his mind, steady and full, with only the Brenin's reflection within its depths. He would remember those terrible words the man had given him, mate, defile cut throat, filthy, pain darkness. Against them, he had only one answer. Rage.

He stayed watching as the man walked away, leaving them alone again, taking the guards with him. The growl shuddered in his chest. Small and barely audible, until gentle hands soothed it away. Soft voices, sweet concern, kind attention. Sir fidgeted beneath their worries. Muzzle swinging from face to face, snuffling breathlessly at each. Tingling on his bruised hand/paw made him lift it from the ground, anger and hate forgotten in the moment. He was loved and he loved. that was all that mattered. His happiness dissolved when Siana asked him to change back. He did not know how he'd changed in the first place. Tail drooping, ears flicking back in consternation, Sir heaved a sigh, then nuzzled the sweet one back, his unconditional love the gift of any dog, offered freely, proudly.

Then, Sir lifted onto his hind legs again, rising to a height of twelve feet before it frightened him. Too high, too strange. He did not like it, he wanted to be a proper Anan again. And, as before, his desire brought the change. He felt it this time. A shifting strength running through him. Energy that shaped him as he remembered himself, that took back what it had given. Fingers shrank, muscles and bones diminished, slipped back to the proper place with a blurring facile slowness. There was no pain, only awkward discomfort. Finally, he stood on all four paws, head raised proudly, tail beating the air with joy. He was better now. -Food?- The thought came with hunger, a hollow feeling that needed to be filled. He would feed as had his ancestors, from the hands of the two-leggeds. It made him fiercely proud.
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Somewhere Siana found a smile, burying her hand in Sir's fur in comfort and silent thanks. "Yes, food." Of course she would give him food, it was the least she could give him in return for the depth of the love he was offering. Achren smiled and ruffled Sir's ear, then all the remaining girls put their hands to his side to guide him forward. They moved inside as one, giggling a little as the they tried to squeeze the whole crowd through a door. Then up some stairs, a turn to the left, and into an open room, the bower of the Queen and her maidens. A fire blazed warm in the southern end of the room, while five beds took up the norther part, separated from the general living area by the sweetly carved arches and flowers. The place they stood now was comfortably set with rugs, tables, chairs, desks--everything and anything five young women could ever hope to need. Siana led the Anan over to a large rug spread before the fire, kneeling down to ask the dog to sit. "Lie down, Sir; we must look at your tongue before we get you food. Saoirse, please find a big bowl, the biggest we have, and fill it with cold, sweet water for our Sir. Eilys, another bowl, if you please, only this time filled with good meat. Achren and Bronwyn, you will help me."

The girls wasted no time, Saoirse and Eilys hurrying off to find the Anan's meal while the other three set to trying to clean the wounded creature off. Soap, water, linens, herbs; all were procured with record speed. Sir was bathed and bandaged and soothed in no time, the young women singing to him as they worked. They chirped together like little birds, weaving sweet melodies for the comfort of the Anan. Just an hour later and the great dog was perfectly patched up, his tummy rubbed once again by Sweet One, Quiet One, and Bird. The door opened, and in came little Saoirse, followed closely by two servants bearing a cistern full of water. Eilys was right behind, and in only another moment Sir was gazing at a steaming meat dinner drenched in gravy. Saoirse clapped her hands to see the feast, delighted. "Dinner is served for Sir! Eat up!" ^^

Siana smiled and nudged him gently forward, clasping her hands in front of her as she watched. "The best meat we have, because we love you. Enjoy."
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Nemaisare
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Inside. Sir had never been inside before. All the two-legged's dens were too small. And if his mother couldn't come inside with him, he wouldn't go inside. Now, he was older, and these were big walls. Big doors, big halls. He wanted to explore. To wander and poke his nose into every corner, to follow each tunnel until he knew every place within the giant den. The memories of the Anan were of one room, huge and long. Vast enough to hold a hundred two-leggeds, people much larger than these Seanachta. This was entirely new. And exciting.

Inside the walls, it was strange. Smells of bread and mice and others. Old wood and bitter, sour drinks. Rushes and wool. But he could see no sheep. Strange too, were the walls, sometimes softer cloth, sometimes hard stone. How they stayed up and changed themselves from inside and outside was a puzzle the Anan wasn't quite ready to solve yet. The stairs took up all his concentration. His paws didn't fit. At least they weren't narrow. And surrounded by the girls, Sir didn't want to fall. He went slowly.

The room was better. Bigger. Then his tail hit a chair. He twisted away from it and narrowly avoided stepping on another table. So he moved carefully through the strangely shaped wood, stepping cautiously on the rugs. They held his weight, and he nosed it up to find stone beneath. Maybe the walls were the same. There was no time to look though, Siana told him to lie down beside her, near the big heat. He slumped obediently in front of her, already panting in the heat, but liking it all the same. Blood mixed with the saliva that pooled and dripped from his tongue, landing on the thick rug and staining it. Not that Sir cared, he couldn't see colours. He turned to watch eagerly as the gentle one leave the room. Sweet one had told her to get meat.

As they washed the stinging cuts along his flanks that had so irritated him before, Sir squirmed. The water tickled and the soap stung his nose. The hands in his mouth still tasted of it. Bad and uncomfortable. Finally, they finished and he sneezed his appreciation. Twisting to sniff at the cuts and lick them experimentally, he shook his fur back into place with a light spray of water. Rolling onto his back he batted at their hands, looking for a return to the earlier, interrupted activity. It was much better than lying still for them to wash and clean and bother. At least until the food came. His head tilted around as he remained lying down, nose quivering. Warm and thick, fat, strange plants, good meat. He licked his lips, his tail slowed. At Saoirse's words he sprang back to his feet, eager, anxious, very hungry. But Sweet one was the leader, she ate first. Anan did not like others eating first. He whined, muzzle inching closer and closer, eyes rolling around to watch for a reaction, a punishment he could avoid by ducking away and leaving the food to her.

She didn't want it. It was for him. His ears flicked forward, his tail rose and he leaped at the bowl. A cautious sniff and taste, then he was swallowing the pieces whole. Some he bit in two, others he pushed aside in favour of larger better ones. Habit made him finish the great bowl. For one never knew when next he would eat, nor if the meat stay where he left it. So when he backed away, the bowl was almost as clean as before it was used. Not including dog drool. It was also halfway across the room. His exuberance hadn't been stationary.

-Good meat.- Cheerful affirmation of Siana's words. A smacking of lips and a drink. Then he was finished. Sir yawned and stretched, teeth clicking shut with satisfaction. His stomach bulged, full. He wandered over, carefully, to Siana, nudging her cheek with his nose. Whuffling at her ear. -Sleep now? Sir is tired. Where?-
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The girls laughed at Sir's exuberance, watching him eat his dinner with smiling eyes. It was such a funny sight to see the Anan pushing his food around in circles, but there was also joy in seeing a hungry belly full. Siana closed her eyes when Sir made his way to her and nudged her cheek, closing her arms around his neck to hold him close to her. "Yes, sleep." The Queen stroked his ear, happy to have his company and his love, then let her hand fall down to her side and motioned him forward to the great bed in the center of the room. It was tall, a little too tall for the slight young woman meant to sleep in it, but Siana pulled herself up by knotting her hands in the blankets. She arranged herself so she was on her knees and smiled down at her newest friend, motioning to the floor beside her bed. -Sir will sleep next to me, so my hand can be on his head all night. Watch.-

She crawled carefully forward onto her pillows and leaned forward, untucking the massive coverlet that covered the royal bed and lifting it up with some difficulty. After a minute's effort Siana managed to fold it in half, at which point she leaned her arm off the bed and dropped the heavy blanket so it lay flat upon the floor, a cozy pillow just the size of a spirit-dog. -Soft. For Sir.- Siana lay back in her bed, snuggling under the other blankets so all but one arm was covered and her hair spread out upon the pillows, then stretched her free arm out so her hand could rest in the warmth of Sir's fur. The Ardi stroked him tenderly, ruffling up the fur only to smooth it back down. -So you are always close. I love you.-

Siana bent once more with a sleepy little yawn, kissing the top of his head before falling back into the warmth of her soft bed. The other girls came forward, too; leaving kisses and pets for Sir, and always the same farewell: "Goodnight, Sir. Sleep well. We love you." Saoirse hugged the beast around his neck; Bronwen gave him a ham bone to chew; Eilys moved his water against the wall right in front of him, and Achren was quick to rest one of her own thin blankets over his furry shoulders. By and by everyone was ready for bed, and Siana stroked her hand over his head one final time. -Thank you for keeping us safe.-

Then she was asleep, her chest rising and falling with the gentle rhythm of her breath.
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Nemaisare
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He let his eyelids slide halfway closed as she hugged him. A stiffening coursing through his muscles as his body reacted to the instinctual fear of an animal being trapped. But Sweet one was gentle and kind. Sweet one was his, and his own would never harm him. Sir licked his nose as she agreed with him and suddenly relaxed. If he couldn’t trust the Sweet one, then he could trust no one, and that was too difficult too understand. So, he would trust her. He huffed his contentment as he followed her sedately to the great mass of soft layers and strange lumps that were meant to hold up the heads of humans. He lowered himself until he could sniff at those gently glowing covers and let his chin rest on them until his weight bent them farther than he’d thought it would.

Then the large dog snorted and lifted his head away from the bed his Sweet one had climbed up. But now she was as tall as he was, and her weight did not bring it down beneath her. He eyed the thing mistrustfully, showing a small bit of tooth just to be sure it wouldn’t suddenly eat her as it had tried to eat him. It did not look safe, but she showed no concern. Sir sighed, a great gust of warm, slightly fetid air that proved his small grief well. If he could not be up on the soft place with her, then he would not be sleeping next to her. And it was too small. Tall, but not enough for him and her together. Not if it tried to eat him. But she didn’t want him up either.

Sweet one would not promise without knowing how to keep the promise. He waited and he watched. The flat cloth thing didn’t want her to pick it up, or shape it like she did. He tried to help, but he did not know what she wanted. And tugging it out of her hands was not helping. She needed it in her hands to move it as she wished it to move. Finally though, she was finished and Sir was engulfed in a great puff of air that had him backpedalling frantically for a moment until the giant sheet settled itself, still and dead, on the ground beside Sweet one’s bed.

He glared at it, blinking furiously at the water the sudden wind had called into his eyes. Then, when it continued to keep still, he untangled himself from the furniture, small tables and bigger chairs, that he’d crashed into, and came cautiously towards it. Sweet one said it was for him. Soft, it smelled like her. There was no bright silver of life gleaming from it. Just the cool glow of things that did not move. Slowly, he settled himself onto it, and then sighed again. This time, in happy agreement. It was soft. It was pleasant. And Sweet one was close. His ears flicked back and he ducked his head lower at her first gentle touch, then his tail began to thump against the bed post as she teased his fur and sent a shiver over his skin.

He raised his muzzle when she leaned over him and gave her a quick lick, twisting his head about so his thick tongue could reach her arm. -Sweet one….- He loved her. He loved her as he loved life. The way any animal would fight for its own survival, so he would fight for her. He was Anan, and so that first Changer/Shaper had made of them. He would love her until there was nothing of him left to do that loving. And he would love the others too. From the great hound, a sense of strength and sweet, sweet joy rose into the room and through every mind that opened to his in that room. He watched them all with soft, hazel-light eyes, the amber glow dimmed by the lamplight, but not dulled. Each female was greeted with a nudge or a furtive lick as they spoke their quiet words and gave him final gifts to see him through the night.

The hug reminded him of the light body pressed against his, of their need for protection. The bone he would hide for later. The water, he sniffed at lapped at, but he was not thirsty now. The blanket was warm after the heat of the fire. His own fur would have been enough, in this room, but he left it there. Bird had put it there. A yawn stretched his muzzle wide open, tongue curling up and a high pitched yawn threading into the air as the muscles tensed and then relaxed in his jaws, suddenly snapping shut and ending the whole with a satisfactory click of his teeth. It was nice. To not be alone anymore. Sir liked it.

His sense of safety and joy grew as Sweet one thanked him, he eased it into each mind and kept it there. Happy. This was nice. Slowly, the night fell further into darkness beyond the walls they had coaxed him into. And somewhere, his Old one lay, scaly creatures worrying at his bones. But he was not out there. The fire now was warm, the room was quiet. Through the wood between the stone that hid the tunnel behind, Sir could hear distant voices, and quiet movements, but they soon stilled. The night was peaceful, the air crisp. He rose once to shake off the too warm blanket, and then he curled into a ball, and thrust his head once more beneath Sweet one’s fingers. It was safe. He let his eyelids close and listened to the females breathing until his own breath echoed them and he too, was asleep.
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