fuga | usir sample.

Learning to live with a raven companion is something she had never been prepared for.

Lauralae was accustomed to a life of isolation, forests and caves, f burrowing herself in the shadows and practicing to learn everything she could about the magics she was discovering. When she moved through the wilderness she tried to be soft, and silent, and she fears what a raven might do to her, the soft rustle of his wings, the croak of his voice, the sharpness of his cry as he comes towards her and settles, constantly, on her shoulder.

She knows, absently, that there is a bond between them. It is the kind of thing she has never felt before, the kind of intensity she had tried to forget from dozens of years in her past. She wants to reach out and stroke her fingers over the feathers, but she fears it all the same, fears what it might mean for her when she is so, so used to being alone, to sharing space with nothing but the wind.

Slowly, she offers her hands, letting the raven come down and settle there. It doesn't make a sound and her heart echoes in her chest, a thump, thump that she can't ignore. It doesn't do anything except stare at her, as if as interested in her as she is in it, and Lauralae breathes out gently, bowing her head and touching her forehead to the bird's again.

"Will you hunt?" She asks. The wilderness is not safe for her kind, surely, no matter what has happened to her. Whatever this bird means, it will not save her from the world. "Will you stay with me?" Then softer, quieter: "Will you be my friend?"

It squawks and she smiles, pushing herself up. It's a small smile, but there's one present all the same.

"Very well. You may stay." As if she has a choice, she thinks, lifting her eyes to look up at the stars. Does she have a choice? She cannot say: whatever the Gods deemed, she thinks.