TALES OF THE WIND | joining

[alaire]

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H i r a e t h. n.
There is no startled fear, only a spark of immediate curiosity.  In the endless days of wandering, lost and entirely by himself, Alaire had found none interested in speaking to him.  None addressed him, or lifted their voices in gentle inquiries. Despite a firm remembrance of 'stranger danger', the fox promptly sat up straighter, intently focused on the badger.

Could he shift into a badger?  Of course I can.  Alaire simply preferred his birth form, splattered with red, black and silver.  A copy of his father with his mother's amber eyes.  In that way, his sister presented the opposite meld of their parents.  None of them changed their shapes as of yet, and for that the boy trusted them to stay the same as he last saw them before the flames.

He wrinkled his nose a little as another stray drop landed bull's eye.  A stray smile splits his face, entirely amused by the rain.  Neither the badger or the strange creature appearing beside her seemed to mind the water, even as it spilled onto them from the sky.  What is he? Aine's chastising voice to remain polite halted a number of questions.  Only a memory of her, but powerful enough to return his molten gaze onto the badger.

"Salut," the greeting felt wrong.  The others offered their words in the common language, but his mother's French prevailed in his mind, guiding the formation of words on his tongue.  "Je m'appelle Alaire." Black paws pressed thoughtfully down.  "What's your name?" A simple echo of the correct phrasing.