A few months later, just after her fourteenth birthday, Namid found herself sitting with the alphess in a small sitting room, tea and biscuits between them, the alphess' kind caramel-eyed gaze upon her as she spoke, "Namid, you do realize you will be attending Wyvern's Court in but four years?"
"Yes ma'm." Namid's parents had told her just recently this news, and she hadn't been surprised.
"Well, I have spoken to the Diente and Tuuli Thea, they have arranged with us, a betrothal."
"A betrothal?" Namid looked up from the floor, pale face emotionless.
"Since you are my heir, an alliance between the wolves and Wyvern's Court is needed."
Namid found her voice to be small when she managed to speak, "To whom am I betrothed?"
"To Salem Cobriana, cousin of Oliza Shardae Cobriana who is the Arami and heir to the avian and serpiente thrones."
The younger wolf suddenly felt her shoulders grow heavy with this news and as she walked from the room after thanking the alphess. She walked from the room, head held loftily with all the dignity she could muster.
A girl's sarcastic voice broke that self-grandeur, "Look, it's the dancer! The one who everyone now bows to!" Laughs where heard from her few followers as they threw clumps of mud at her, laughing as she stood there, doing nothing.
"She can't even fight back!" the girl cried, a grin spreading over her face. "Who want an heir who can't fight her battle?"
"You don't belong here!" someone shouted.
"Get out!" another called out.
"Try and dance yourself out of this one, Namid!"
Namid walked past them, head bowed, into the sanctuary of her forest, hearing their insults behind her. Tears, no matter how much she tried to hold them back, fell down her cheeks. She had never cried when they hurt her before, always keeping it bottled up and ignoring them but she was glad when she fell to her knees and just cried.
"Why?" she whispered between sobs, "Why was I chosen to be heir, why did all this happen?"
A soft voice made her look up. "Why do you sob so, little one?"
Namid's heart raced as she wrapped her arms around herself, bending down and trying to hide her shame, her black hair hung loosely around her face.
"Who are you?" she murmured.
"I am a traveler, nothing more." The voice, distinctively male, replied.
The bushes around her rustled and she listened, the normal activity of the forest gone and the air around her tense. She waited a few minutes, saying nothing as the sound of ragged breathing met her ears.
Body uptight, her mind screaming for her to shift, she listened as the voice whispered, so close to her, warm breath tickling her ear.
"The red rose whispers of passion," He kissed her cheek, the barest stroke of lips to skin.
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon…"
She tensed at the shriek that followed, the falcon's cry that all wolves feared.
"And the white rose is a dove.
But I send you a cream-white rosebud
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest…"
The man paused.
"Has a kiss of desire on the lips."
The man's body was of shadow and his face of rotting flesh. Where there should have been eyes, blue fire flared. Namid gasped and fell back, eyes wide. The shadow being backed off, "Scared of me are you, star-dancer?" And with a deep chuckle he disappeared.
She blinked. Once, twice and shook her head to clear it. What was that thing?
Standing shakily, she walked to a clear spring that bubbled between several large rocks and scooped some of the cool water into her hands to wash her face. Sighing deeply, she looked at her reflection:
Forlorn deep green-silver eyes stared back under questioning brows. Black hair cascaded down to curl slightly at the hips and hid some of the mud on her moon-pale face, as she stubbornly washed it off.
She remembered when Rakab and her were younger and when they were bullied for their differences, she had been seven then and he had been ten, three years before his departure…
Rakab mumbled a few curses under his breath and ran into the forest, dragging Namid with him. Namid's nose was bleeding badly and his own face had been cut by some of the older boys, who had decided to give them trouble. They sat by the river; Namid pinched her nose and Rakab ignored his own cuts and tried to tend to the girl, who was washing her face. "Here, Namid. Use this." He handed her a handkerchief and she smiled grimly.
"You almost got killed." She whispered, taking his hand. He covered her hand with his own and grinned, "But we got out with only a few minor cuts." Rakab stretched luxuriously on the bank and his grin faded as he winced and felt his left shoulder.
"What's wrong?" Namid asked.
"Nothing." Rakab laughed, "Just a pulled muscle, that's all."
Namid nodded and began to sing, her voice small and pretty, "Friends will come and friends will go," "The seasons change and it will show." "I will age and so will you." He tweaked her nose, and she grinned, "But our friendship stays, strong and true."
"And that's right." Rakab murmured.
Namid smiled, "Come on and dance with me!" She pulled her friend to his feet and he spun as she stepped and took his hand, laughing.
The memory froze there as it had when imprinted in her mind. She wondered if Rakab remembered her as he had her or if he was still alive. He would be seventeen now and probably having a lover or two by now. She smacked the spring's surface in frustration and turned away, growling and muttering curses.
Somewhere in a distant wood...
Sitting in a tree,a young man's eyes blinked back tears as he remembered his childhood friend. The last time he had seen her, she had been a mere child of ten but now, almost four years later she must be a young woman—"a beautiful young woman." His mind told him. The man banished the thought and sighed, toying with a dagger.
For the last four years he had lived as a loner, as a thief and a rogue. He stole for his new living, trying to survive the harsh world that was his own. He led group of four men and five women who called themselves: Sheeva Intre, Cold Silence. He was their leader, their mana. As much as he enjoyed their company, he was never quite…whole.
He knew what the feeling was and why he hated himself right now. He was in love and she never knew it.
Violet eyes scanned the night sky and the vision of those innocent green-silver eyes and that gentle smile appeared. LeonNamid: the beginning.
It had begun with her. Namid, his dancer, his beginning… And he had fled.
Ashamed, he turned away, feeling the eyes of the moon upon him. Did she still think of him or had she turned away from her memories?
"Rakab?" a voice called him from his thoughts. The speaker was a lean woman with curls of fire and eyes of ice, her mouth was set in a tight line as she saw the worry etched in her leader's face.
"Nothings wrong, Ginger. I'm just thinking." He replied.
Ginger shrugged, "You'd best come down for supper soon. Senka caught rabbits." Senka was one of the four men and the only one who was a jaguar shape shifter. Ginger was a red rat snake, another was an emerald boa, and the other three women were avian shifters. The other two men were serpiente with one avian shifter. Rakab was the only wolf. It was a strange group but it held.
Ginger left and Rakab looked back to the sky where the moon still shone bright and the stars twinkled in their innocence. "May you dance. Dance until the morn and may freedom grace you, my friend. Don't forget me…I'll come back Namid, I'll come back my LeonNamid…my beginning."
With that, Rakab sighed and climbed down form the tree. His thoughts all in a mess…
Had his friendship with Namid really turn to love?
He hoped so.