Post by AFireInTheSnow on Jan 27, 2011 14:16:30 GMT -5
Bloodlines
Chapter one:
Birth...
-------
Staring down at her newborn daughter, Silverwing Nightfyre noticed nothing unusual about the slumbering girl. The little one's eyes were closed, her breathing slow and deep as she lay in her mother's arms. Silver was exhausted from the birthing, which had lasted a near twenty-four hours, but rather proud of herself for having given birth to a healthy youngling. She gently stroked the child's cheek, mulling things over in her head. A name, specifically, for the child. Obviously her last name would be Nightfyre, as with her bloodline, but what of a first and middle name?
At the sound of a confused whine leaving Silverwing's lips, her mate, the Alpha of the pack, turned and strode quickly to her side.
"What's wrong, love?" he asked, brow furrowed with worry, his eyes on his daughter.
Silver lifted her hea to give him a faint smile. "Relax, Dazen, nothing bad. I just can't come up with a name..."
Dazen nodded, one hand coming up to stroke the cheek of his daughter, nuzzling Silver's cheek. Naming was often difficult, especially in the packs. Many parents waited a year or so, until their child was of an age where their personality showed. Until then, they were called by their last names, the name of their father. For a long time, their little one would be called Nightfyre. That would have to do until they found a true name for her.
Nightfyre grew up quickly, like all Weres of her kind did. In most of the Were species, the youngsters were fully independent from her parents at one or two years of age. They could hunt, scout or patrol the territory as well as any adult. They didn't even look like normal human children would at age two. Weres at age two looked like five year old humans, or older depending on the race specifically. Werecats generally looked to be about seven by the age of two, which could be rather unnerving for any humans one might interact with if they knew the kitten's true age. The astounding growth would stop when the child looked to be age ten, and would cease until they reached the same physical age before continuing at a more normal, human pace. Their mind grew with their body, and a Were living among humans at age sixteen or seventeen could be considered wise beyond their years because of the way their minds worked. A twelve year old Werewolf, for example, was sexually mature and mentally old enough to be considered somewhere in their early thirties. Luckily, at twelve, most Weres are still not yet ready for any sort of sexual contact despite the old mentality.
When Nightfyre was one year old, almost exactly, she looked like a five year old girl, with pretty, petite features. Most cubs usually had a bit of "puppy fat," as humans called it. Nightfyre didn't. She was slender, with a small, flat little stomach and long limbs. Her hair flowed down her back in a cascade of flame-red waves, so unlike her father's blonde hair or her mother's black. Her way of speech was nowhere near perfect, yet, which was to be expected for a cub her age. She was fascinated by knives of any sort and unlike most cubs, who had green or brown eyes for their first five years of life, the occuli that stared out from her pale face were a deep, turquoise blue. When angered, they flashed a deeper shade.
These differences troubled the parents, because they were signs of her bloodline, and what Dazen might have passed on to his daughter. Dazen was Feral, a Daemon as well as a Werecat. It was caused by a curse put on the Weres when the breed was still young and only the Werecats and Werewolves were the shifters of the earth. A genetic trait passed down through a few unlucky Weres that gave them a genetic Daemonicy. The five elements a Feral Werewolf or Werecat could be born with were Water, Earth, Fire, Air and Spirit. The element was usually passed along with the Daemon blood to the Feral's children.
Dazen's element was Fire, hence his given name of Nightfyre. Though they knew quite well that Ferals had been in their packs for generation upon generation, they were rare enough that they weren't easily trusted by their pack members. Dazen's fire element had made it especially difficult when he had first come to the Wyldfyr* pack, for despite their name (one of the two Werecat packs with a fire-related name, the other being FlamePaw) Weres are naturally afraid of fire. The knowledge that Dazen could wield flames in his bare paws led other Weres to distrust him for a long time. It had taken several years for the pack to accept him as one of their own, and when the old Alpha had died, he had been allowed to fight for the leadership position, being one of the strongest males. Only on the condition that he didn't use his fire, though.
He was worried how the pack would react if Nightfyre turned out to be the same as he was, a flame-controlling Daemoness, even though she had half the blood. Dazen was pure-bred Feral, though he had inherited his father's element instead of his mother's air control. Even as a half-Feral, Nightfyre wouldn't easily be accepted by the pack. They could handle one flaming feline, but two? Unlikely.
...
There was a name for her. Sira, the Werecatic word for Troubled. Troubled... Peace. Kinahari. Sira Kinahari Nightfyre.
And thus she was known to the pack she grew up in. The troubled, threatened peace. The flaming heart in the darkness of their nocturnal, moonlit world.
* Spelt in Werecatic itself, which is not very fond of using I's, and rather prefers to use Y's in their place. English spelling of WyldFyr is the normal Wildfire.
Chapter one:
Birth...
-------
Staring down at her newborn daughter, Silverwing Nightfyre noticed nothing unusual about the slumbering girl. The little one's eyes were closed, her breathing slow and deep as she lay in her mother's arms. Silver was exhausted from the birthing, which had lasted a near twenty-four hours, but rather proud of herself for having given birth to a healthy youngling. She gently stroked the child's cheek, mulling things over in her head. A name, specifically, for the child. Obviously her last name would be Nightfyre, as with her bloodline, but what of a first and middle name?
At the sound of a confused whine leaving Silverwing's lips, her mate, the Alpha of the pack, turned and strode quickly to her side.
"What's wrong, love?" he asked, brow furrowed with worry, his eyes on his daughter.
Silver lifted her hea to give him a faint smile. "Relax, Dazen, nothing bad. I just can't come up with a name..."
Dazen nodded, one hand coming up to stroke the cheek of his daughter, nuzzling Silver's cheek. Naming was often difficult, especially in the packs. Many parents waited a year or so, until their child was of an age where their personality showed. Until then, they were called by their last names, the name of their father. For a long time, their little one would be called Nightfyre. That would have to do until they found a true name for her.
Nightfyre grew up quickly, like all Weres of her kind did. In most of the Were species, the youngsters were fully independent from her parents at one or two years of age. They could hunt, scout or patrol the territory as well as any adult. They didn't even look like normal human children would at age two. Weres at age two looked like five year old humans, or older depending on the race specifically. Werecats generally looked to be about seven by the age of two, which could be rather unnerving for any humans one might interact with if they knew the kitten's true age. The astounding growth would stop when the child looked to be age ten, and would cease until they reached the same physical age before continuing at a more normal, human pace. Their mind grew with their body, and a Were living among humans at age sixteen or seventeen could be considered wise beyond their years because of the way their minds worked. A twelve year old Werewolf, for example, was sexually mature and mentally old enough to be considered somewhere in their early thirties. Luckily, at twelve, most Weres are still not yet ready for any sort of sexual contact despite the old mentality.
When Nightfyre was one year old, almost exactly, she looked like a five year old girl, with pretty, petite features. Most cubs usually had a bit of "puppy fat," as humans called it. Nightfyre didn't. She was slender, with a small, flat little stomach and long limbs. Her hair flowed down her back in a cascade of flame-red waves, so unlike her father's blonde hair or her mother's black. Her way of speech was nowhere near perfect, yet, which was to be expected for a cub her age. She was fascinated by knives of any sort and unlike most cubs, who had green or brown eyes for their first five years of life, the occuli that stared out from her pale face were a deep, turquoise blue. When angered, they flashed a deeper shade.
These differences troubled the parents, because they were signs of her bloodline, and what Dazen might have passed on to his daughter. Dazen was Feral, a Daemon as well as a Werecat. It was caused by a curse put on the Weres when the breed was still young and only the Werecats and Werewolves were the shifters of the earth. A genetic trait passed down through a few unlucky Weres that gave them a genetic Daemonicy. The five elements a Feral Werewolf or Werecat could be born with were Water, Earth, Fire, Air and Spirit. The element was usually passed along with the Daemon blood to the Feral's children.
Dazen's element was Fire, hence his given name of Nightfyre. Though they knew quite well that Ferals had been in their packs for generation upon generation, they were rare enough that they weren't easily trusted by their pack members. Dazen's fire element had made it especially difficult when he had first come to the Wyldfyr* pack, for despite their name (one of the two Werecat packs with a fire-related name, the other being FlamePaw) Weres are naturally afraid of fire. The knowledge that Dazen could wield flames in his bare paws led other Weres to distrust him for a long time. It had taken several years for the pack to accept him as one of their own, and when the old Alpha had died, he had been allowed to fight for the leadership position, being one of the strongest males. Only on the condition that he didn't use his fire, though.
He was worried how the pack would react if Nightfyre turned out to be the same as he was, a flame-controlling Daemoness, even though she had half the blood. Dazen was pure-bred Feral, though he had inherited his father's element instead of his mother's air control. Even as a half-Feral, Nightfyre wouldn't easily be accepted by the pack. They could handle one flaming feline, but two? Unlikely.
...
There was a name for her. Sira, the Werecatic word for Troubled. Troubled... Peace. Kinahari. Sira Kinahari Nightfyre.
And thus she was known to the pack she grew up in. The troubled, threatened peace. The flaming heart in the darkness of their nocturnal, moonlit world.
* Spelt in Werecatic itself, which is not very fond of using I's, and rather prefers to use Y's in their place. English spelling of WyldFyr is the normal Wildfire.