Tutelare

They said they would come back. Be good, stay still, okay? That's what they said, the nameless hatchling repeated to herself. She flicked her antennae. Hours had passed since they had said that, but they had to be coming. Weren't they? Her antennae twitched, and she thought she might have sensed something, but she wanted to be a good patient girl, so she wrapped her wings around herself and resisted the urge to move.

The beautiful pink blush of sunset was creeping at the edges of the clouds, but in the hostile climates of the Sothern Icefield, nightfall meant sub-zero temperatures. She knew this because they told her so. They would be proud to know she remembered. When they come back, I'll tell them I listened well, she thought, beaming at the thought of pleasing the elders.

Slowly, the sun sunk below the horizon and the sky plunged to a deep blue. They were right, the temperatures drop a lot at night, she thought, moving every now and then to stop frost forming on her fur. They were just late, she knew. Sometimes she was late. Surely the elders were late sometimes too. It was getting colder and the light breeze that tickled her earlier in the day now felt like a blizzard. She gave up on keeping the snow and frost off as even shivering became painful in the biting cold.

Snarling, the wolf shook its head back and forth as she clutched tightly to the rough clumps of fur at its neck. The cold had taken its toll, and she could feel her claws slipping from the icy fur. From the corner of her eye she could saw the Vulstal slipping away to safety before with one last shake she was flung down the cliff.

Black. Everything was dark, yet there was a piercing light. It was freezing and she could feel the wet rocks beneath but at the same time a tender warmth wrapped itself around her. A soothing voice whispered apologies but she felt that the speaker wasn't really speaking. Opening her eyes, she saw herself facing the Icewarden. Without really speaking, she felt everything from him, her antennae picking up everything from his enormous magical force.

The elders of her clan had abandoned her, a poor hatchling yet to be named, and now, she has lost flight to protect my messenger. She cried alone as the Vulstal sat itself around her, its fur musky. The Icewarden, there but not really present, muttered. The least I can do for this little one is... She closed her eyes again, as she listened to his words.