Legend of Ransera

It hurt more than she could ever describe. It hurt so badly, and she didn't know why. Her breathing hitched, even though the tears had stopped hours ago. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to go home. Where even was home? She didn't know anymore but she missed it, something was missing, something hurt. She didn't know, she didn't know, she didn't know! She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't feel. There was just the cold rush of emptiness and the dull throbbing of something that hurt. Something broken. What? She didn't know. She didn't know, she didn't know, she didn't know!

Her breath hitched again and a steady hand pressed itself into her back, right between her shoulderblade. Her entire body went still, freezing solid. The presence of the hand was warm, seeping through the light clothes she still wore. Slowly it began to trace small circles.

A quiet humming followed and slowly the humming turned into words. "Sleep little wolf, easy little wolf. The sun's gone, it's time to rest little wolf," the voice of the man Isra had left her with said. Rúnar, she corrected herself. The voice was quiet and soothing and struck a chord that Alyssum didn't know existed within herself. It was warm, and the ache slowly started to ebb. She swallowed, tail curling closer into her body as her breath hitched once more. She refused to uncurl herself from the position she'd taken, knees tucked up to her chest and head tucked into her knees. Small, ball-like, and safe with her wings curled ever so tightly around her form.

The song didn't stop. "Rest little wolf, you're tired little wolf. There's no reason to fear sunset. Tomorrow will be warm."

Her ears perked and swiveled in order to better listen to the gentle melody. It caught against her thoughts and rocked her soul like the music was a cradle. She didn't know why, but it felt familiar. Not like she'd ever heard it before, not that kind of familiar. At least, she didn't think so. If she ever had it was probably before she'd lost her original family. It was a different kind of familiar, something that was familiar on a deep spiritual level. She couldn't properly wrap her head around why though.

The song stopped when she shifted, her wings slowly slipping away from the defensive position. The sobbing stopped and she brought her head upwards, still keeping herself low and defensive, but finally looking at Rúnar. He was sat down on the ground right alongside her, his own knees pulled up to his broad chest. He didn't look comfortable, but he sat there, still rubbing small circles with a hand that was too gentle to hurt her. He didn't look at her, just keeping his eyes trained on the hearth in front of him. He began humming again. He seemed... kind. Yes, the smaller Rathari decided, looking at the hulking mountain of a wolf sat beside her. He seemed kind.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she inched closer, trying to decide what to do. She didn't get closer enough to touch, stopping a couple of inches away from him. She was still scared, terrified even, her posture closed off and defensive. But it was more open than it had been in the moments prior.

"What was that song?" She asked when his humming finally ceased.

Rúnar glanced at her, quirking one of his eyebrows. "It was a Vithmi lullaby, it's very old. The Rathari used to sing it to their babes back when they were still the Rathtori. Apparently it hasn't changed that much, but who's to say for certain. Everything eventually changes. That doesn't have to be a bad thing though."

"What's a lullaby?" She asked. She figured it was some type of song, but she'd never heard the word before. Isra didn't sing, the only songs Alyssum had ever learned were sung by the wolves late at night. She couldn't really sing, not in a way that would be appreciated by normal people. Only other Sharvalain's would ever hear her songs. Even now, her voice was so quiet the only reason Rúnar could hear her was due to his sharpened senses as a wolf Rathari. By the way, his ears were cocked in Alyssum's direction he was still struggling to fully make out all of her words.

"Lullabies are gentle songs you sing children to calm them down or help them sleep. Gods, did Isra never sing them for you? And she was worried about me being a bad parent," he huffed with a shake of his head, eyes narrowing at the door.

"Why did she leave me?" Alyssum couldn't stop the answer from tumbling from her tiny figure. It was the one thing that'd been haunting her, swinging around her skull the entire time and plaguing her with thoughts she wanted nothing to do with.

Rúnar jolted slightly, seeming shocked by the question. He went still, his eyes finally meeting with Alyssum's for the first that night. He then sighed, his form shaking slightly as the air deflated from his lungs. "She didn't want to," he said, hesitantly at best. As though he wasn't sure he was telling the truth. Or maybe it was that he wasn't sure where to start. Alyssum couldn't tell the difference. Children see things in black and white. Isra left her. There was nothing more to it. Alyssum must have done something wrong. The thought slammed into her chest and she sniffled again, ears pressing to her skull as she whimpered, the wet sting once again returning to her eyes. She was dangerously close to bursting into tears for the second time that night.

"Look at me, little one," Rúnar said, trying to make eye contact with her.

Her eyes darted up and down a couple of times, but slowly Alyssum started to raise her gaze, meeting the eyes of Rúnar. "Isra doesn't know how to take care of a child. She never intended to adopt you, but she couldn't find anyone else she trusted. You did nothing wrong, her leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't her fault either. She knew she wouldn't be able to take care of you properly. It's no one's fault, it's just a simple fact," he said, reaching up to carefully pet her hair. She sniffled again, her body shivering once more. She was still cold, even so close to the fire.

"She didn't leave you either, and this isn't goodbye. She was simply passing you to me for now since I know how to take care of children. I raised all my half-siblings before they passed away, too human to have the lifespan of a Rathari. I know how to care for a child. You don't speak well, you have no social grace, Isra didn't teach you that. And perhaps one day you may decide you don't need it, but it's better you learn than one day discover you need it and you don't have it. On top of that, Isra isn't a Rathari. She can't raise you like one of us can." He said. If Alyssum wasn't properly raised by a Rathari, bad things could happen.

Rathari who went without their coming of age celebration often couldn't transform, couldn't figure out their purpose, it often led to a malady of different ailments the cures for which couldn't be found because they were all mental. Or at the very least, too far past just the flesh for normal doctors to cure. The worst cases could lead to suicide or sudden death for reasons only a Rathari could explain, but couldn't figure out how to put into words.

Alyssum didn't know any of this, she was a child. A child who was trying to figure out why the closest thing she had to a parent figure had just left her alone with what Alyssum considered to be a stranger. There was no question as to why she was struggling.

Rúnar stood up with another sigh, completely uncertain as to how to further explain to a child who didn't have the mental maturity of a 14-year-old why that very fact was the reason Isra knew she had to leave Alyssum with Rúnar. "Come on pup, stand up. There's an extra room for you and some clothes. We'll have to get something properly tailored, but they'll work for now. You're cold, tired, probably hungry knowing Isra. We'll get you to sleep. In the morning I'll feed you."

He didn't make plans for the future, Alyssum still needed to adjust. She was visibly uncomfortable and unhappy. Sleep and food were the first steps though. Sleep, food, and love. Luckily for her, her new caretaker had plenty of the three.