every scar will build my throne; any

[Wayra]

Wayra knew something of disappointment, and of envy. She loved her sister like she loved herself, perhaps even better, for Nebibi never failed her. Yet, like all sisters, Wayra worried she would come up lacking. Nebibi was bold, Nebibi was brave. What was Wayra? She was young. In her heart she was young, all eyes and legs and soft smiles.

She could feel a fire burning in this colt, and her own soul, like a rush of cold wind, rose to soothe his. She was like that. She was still too gentle for the sharp corners of the world. If she could she would smooth away the jagged edges like the sea worked on a piece of glass.

She watched him carefully, though something akin to fondness pulled at her expression. She found she liked him, this precocious colt, if only because he was hard on himself, and that was something Wayra could relate too. Even in his disappointment, she thought she saw the beginning of a smile, maybe just a tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless. Wayra, for all her self-deprecating scowls, was not built to frown. She was quick to smile in response, and even laughed as he spoke of a bird crashing to earth. With a little delight, she dropped her voice to match his conspiratorial whisper.

“It would serve them right. They are terribly morbid." It was then Wayra noticed they had an audience. She shot the bird a reproachful look, then snorted indignantly as it dropped its prize on the boy’s rump.

“Morbid and overconfident! I dare say it wouldn’t be half so forward if it came down from that tree.” If truth were to be told, Wayra wasn’t sure she would want to face the bird, even if they were standing on equal ground. She didn’t like the look its strong beak and evilly curved talons. Then, of course, there was  the small matter of the bird’s mistress. She put that thought aside, for it would only cause her to lose her nerve.

He introduced herself, and she quickly hid a smile at his grimace. When she spoke the smile was gone, though it could still be heard lingering at the edge of her words.

“Vercingetorix, it’s a fine name, truly.” She couldn’t help it, the smile escaped and sprinted across her face. But, the expression held no mockery, and was heavily colored by the first inkling of affection for her new acquaintance.
“You will grow into it, and it will strike fear into the hearts of your enemies.” She paused to rein in her quickly growing grin.

"Birds and stallions alike.” She couldn’t be certain, but she would bet that this one had the makings of a warrior. He was already a scrapper.

Wayra, who had spent her short time in the Chamber convincing herself that she didn’t belong here, that she never should have come, and that she stuck out like a sore thumb, felt herself color in response to his question.

“Is it that obvious?” She bit her lip and fought down a wave of self-consciousness.

“Yes, I only recently arrived, though I’m not sure I’ll be staying. My father, he lives here, and I thought, maybe if I was with him, I would feel more at home.” She was a little embarrassed to admit this. He would probably think her a horrible baby. A part of her wanted to continue, but she bit back her words. They had only just met. How could she explain to him that she was afraid that she didn’t fit in, worried that she would never fit in anywhere? Instead, she offered him a shaky smile and simply said.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Vercingetorix.”

Wayra

not all who wander are lost