Post by Kiko on Nov 8, 2011 13:04:21 GMT -5
Kiko didn't wait to see if the girl headed toward the trees or not. She was tired, she was warm, and her belly was full. She stretched out, with her eyes slowly fading toward sleep; hypnotized by the fire. She had some idle thought, one that recognized why the dancing flames would encourage a wolf to move closer or tolerate the existence of humans. But, she could not chase it down, no matter how fast the earth flew under her paws. The bounce and bob of the quickening flames lulled Kiko into dreams.
Kiko opened her eyes to find herself standing in her grandfather's dojo. It had been hammered and carved free of the hill just outside of town. As a consequence it was long, narrow, and sparse; utilizing every bit of possible space. She was not surprised to find her grandfather's amber eyes, so like her own, staring into her face either.
Kiko loved her grandfather. He'd given her the nickname she preferred to use. She was delighted to listen to any story or tale he cared to dream up or tell; she begged him for more. On the days she had been scorned, scarred, scratched, or scared by the other children he was where she ran for safety. But, here; in this building, she had learned to hate him too.
He had put the tanto she was wearing in her hands before she had learned to write. He had taught her how to use it to defend herself, against both her mother and her father's wishes. That teaching did not come easily, either. Though, thankfully, she had no bad habits to unlearn. Kiko cringed inwardly at that thought. She had seen plenty of arrogant boys and men who had. His eyes commanded her attention and she dropped her head. Kiko lowered to one knee on the mat in front of him.
Ōkami.
She did not look up. It had taken but one demonstration of what might happen should she move before he acknowledged her. Her grandfather allowed for no disobediences in his students.
Come girl.
Kiko lifted off her knee and stood up to follow him. Her heart was in her throat, the echo of it clogging up whatever she might have attempted to say in response. She did not know why she was here or why he had sent for her. However, the ritual was ingrained upon her.
Kiko opened her eyes to find herself standing in her grandfather's dojo. It had been hammered and carved free of the hill just outside of town. As a consequence it was long, narrow, and sparse; utilizing every bit of possible space. She was not surprised to find her grandfather's amber eyes, so like her own, staring into her face either.
Kiko loved her grandfather. He'd given her the nickname she preferred to use. She was delighted to listen to any story or tale he cared to dream up or tell; she begged him for more. On the days she had been scorned, scarred, scratched, or scared by the other children he was where she ran for safety. But, here; in this building, she had learned to hate him too.
He had put the tanto she was wearing in her hands before she had learned to write. He had taught her how to use it to defend herself, against both her mother and her father's wishes. That teaching did not come easily, either. Though, thankfully, she had no bad habits to unlearn. Kiko cringed inwardly at that thought. She had seen plenty of arrogant boys and men who had. His eyes commanded her attention and she dropped her head. Kiko lowered to one knee on the mat in front of him.
Ōkami.
She did not look up. It had taken but one demonstration of what might happen should she move before he acknowledged her. Her grandfather allowed for no disobediences in his students.
Come girl.
Kiko lifted off her knee and stood up to follow him. Her heart was in her throat, the echo of it clogging up whatever she might have attempted to say in response. She did not know why she was here or why he had sent for her. However, the ritual was ingrained upon her.