Blackfeather Woods i like to be here when i can

Flustered at her clumsy grasp of the regular tongue, and listening to Maegi’s anecdote regardless of her own wide-eyed rapture, the word promise was lent up, and Jazira gave her own pause. Amber eyes fell from the pallid, wrought face and instead to the mossed earth at her her dark, tapered paws.

In the sands that’d birthed Jazira, it had been a time of when promises that once meant something now, at that time, meant nothing. Oaths — no, words — began to lose their meaning, and vows fell on deaf and foolhardy ears. But here, they meant something once more; and Maegi offered a home (not too far from her sands) and communion. The choice was easy to make: ”I promise. I will not turn against you.”

And then, feeling a bit ridiculous and unsure of herself, the desert child gave a hurried ”Thank you, Maegi,” and an awkward bob of her head. Which was really a stilted obeisance of her whole body but, whatever. She was grateful, smiled helplessly — ”If this is the case, then you may call me Jaz.”