The Sentinels on the pacific

deirdre had taken to attaching herself at her fathers side as of late, her dependency upon him having grown great. she felt stronger now in his presence, and once again she felt safe. it was the forest and its easy breeze this day that told her of his path, and she followed it to the borderline. the lovely cub paused just before she could grow too close; then, from a comfortable distance, she simply listened. her father, lasher! the wood seemed to come to life at hearing its given name, and she a remnant branch from the tree beside her stroke her spine in a manner that comforted her. she glanced to it, and looked to its knotted, ancient eyes before she expelled a breath. she was not impudent, and obeyed it as she felt it will her to go forth.

the pale babe drew forth mutely, content to observe and listen. her father had asked what the other could offer, and the flower of the forest watched the other—handsomely groomed—as they were evaluated. deirdre did not know the way sickness smelt, but there was a foul scent that wafted toward her then, and she tilted her head. it was not offensive to the point where she wished to flee, but she wondered what it was she detected, and glanced to her father. it did not cling to the other, either; perhaps it was old, like something that had gone bad but that had been rolled in. so, she did not fret or think on it as her gaze turned back to lucani.