Nadleeh

Nobody in the Wayal Talik knew exactly what Nadleeh was.

She had not spoken even once since she was brought in by the hunters of the clan, shivering and moaning, curled up in a tight ball as if in a desperate fight against a winter storm.

(And maybe she was.)

The Masked Phantom that had been found with her had screeched and flown about in what could be easily interpreted as panic. It zipped from one spot to another, all of them sun-splotched from the holes that dotted the lair walls -

The leader of the clan knew then and there. He and another clan member pulled the poor, shivering thing into a considerable patch of sunlight.

And then lo and behold.

After a while of silence, she rose from her curl and looked to all of them with eyes as blazingly intense as the lava flows of the Ashfall Waste. Then, still quiet, still unspeaking, she stretched out her wings to take in more of the sun.

And oh, how they glistened, seemingly alive in their own right with the foreign energy that swirled and twisted right in that thin stretch of skin. Her body faintly glowed with runes of the same foreign energy, a pulse to them every now and then that captivated all eyes.

Even now that she has grown, the runes on her form still tend to captivate.

It had become a regular occurrence in the Wayal Talik by now to see her basking, whether it be outside on the top of the mesa they had carved their lair in or on a spot of sunlight from within the lair, content and safe and under the watchful gazes of her fellow denmates and her familiar. And with each and every bask, the swirling and twisting energy in her wings and runes pulsed ever brighter.

And the name 'Nadleeh'? Where had that come from if its bearer had not spoken even once and introduced herself to the clan?

This was the doing of the clan leader. A combination and corruption of two words in his native Mirror speak - 'Nado' meaning 'sun' and 'Li'ih' meaning 'progeny'.

The Sun Child. Few would even go as far as to call her a celestial being.

But whatever Nadleeh thought of the matter, she never let it be known.

She would just stretch her shining wings to the daylight and absorb that gilded energy.

(And despite her muteness, the clan would still take the time to understand her and her minuscule actions, her Masked Phantom familiar their guide to her quirks.

No words were needed for when she would sometimes walk over to one of them and envelope them in an embrace made warmer by her glistening wings.

They already knew that she appreciated the things they did to understand her better.)