light a fire in your new shoes

All at once, there was a small raiding party upon them. Well, metaphorically. As soon as they crossed into the warmer climate, someone shouted for Lirika. The brunt of the seal fell upon her, and she nearly dropped it herself in shock. It seemed this was going to be their final destination with the blubbery beast. Turning slowly, she watched a small shape come racing across the plains. The child collided fearlessly with her mother, and Olya could see that she was, indeed, blessed of Svarog.

No sooner had the youngster reunited with her mother than her father emerged. A titanic man, with a fearsome mask upon his face. This must be the skull mask that young Darya wore as well. He looked displeased, to say the least. Bisected gaze would scrutinize him as he approached, wondering what kind of man he must be. "I am Samael Morningstar, leader of The band of the fallen, which my daughter's are all part of." It was an assertion of dominance, if ever there was one. He was making it clear that those children were now his property, more or less. Not to be taken from him. His hard stare bored into her soul, and she stood defiant. Head high, she met it. Aloof, and unafraid. A wary glance was cast to Lirika when he said, "You will be joining yes?"

It seemed Lirika was not going to answer right away, so she neglected to do so as well. It seemed a volatile situation which she needed to investigate some more. Next came a tiny ball of fur, racing across the terrain towards them. Her raucous cries were jubilant, to say the least. "Мама! Я тоже хочу быть шаманом! Да говорит, что я могу быть чем угодно, если я буду думать о нем!" She choked on her breath. The father was encouraging blasphemous thoughts like this? A wide eyed stare fell upon the massive male. It appeared she had not been as informed as she'd hoped. Lirika quickly soothed the child, though her words were no reassuring. Perhaps she also believed such things?

Unmistakably, the next to emerge from the den was Darya. Her dark form, bigger than the rest, stood out amongst the foliage all around. She was, indeed, as lovely as her mother said. She was shy, though. Hiding among her mother's legs fearfully, avoiding eye contact. That was fine. To see the tenderness with which Lirika addressed the soft spoken girl, brought warmth to her heart.

"My loves, I would like you to meet Olya. She is a shaman from the motherland, and she will be teaching you all the ways of the gods and proper ways to interact with them." Just like that, it was her turn to speak. A warm smile slid easily onto her features, and she took a step forward. "Yes, I am here to teach you the ways of our people. As well, I can teach you the ways of healing and diplomacy, should you wish." She looked between all the children. "I pray that soon the gods will favour you all with your Rite of Rebirth, and see your souls preserved. In the coming moons, I hope to prepare you all for the hunt."

Suddenly, she realized something. Where was her guard? During the hunt, he had been scouting the area. Now, he was nowhere to be seen. Glancing around, she wondered where he could have gotten to. "I brought along a guard by the name of Xiomar, but he appears to have wandered off. Soon, you will meet him as well. He can teach you to defend yourselves, and his native language- if you ask him nicely enough." A soft, husky laugh rumbled through her jaws at that. He wasn't necessarily a prickly man, but he could be secretive in some ways. No doubt these precious children could get him to teach them his tongue, and his ways.