Thunder Dome twai

The way he stared at her felt to Edith, like staring in to the sun. It was usually the expression of an interested dog or eager teen who did not yet know better, except there was something more direct when it came from the wildling; something about the way he stared made Edith want to sink down. She did not, and would not, wilt before him. Beyond that, he spoke of a home — as if this whole wild domain was not his.

Maybe something was lost in translation. If he was willing to divulge the secrets of the Wyrd to her then there was reason for hope, and her tail-tip gave a few brushes of the air. You are generous, and she was surprised by this the most, given what she had been taught. Wotan's Country was a place without law; or if there was law, it was a wild sort that did not suit the cities of her handlers.

You would not be disappointed. Edith had pledged to find these creatures, to study them, to adapt and to learn. When she put her mind to something she did not let it go; and so too, she would come to understand this wildman and his people. I am called Edith, by my family. Do you — your people, do they have names?

Was that rude to ask? It might've been, the wild ones did not utilize names at all. Perhaps they knew one-another only by scent, like in the stories. Perhaps they had secret names given by Wotan when they were created; many such fantastic ideas sprung to life in her mind, and Edith tampered them down so as not to seem too animated. She was not a child, she knew better than to let children's stories interfere with the truth.