Willows
05-22-2020, 03:29 AM
It was nice, that feeling of singing with someone just to sing. Not as an idle thing, secondary to whatever task happened to be at hand. Mal sometimes hummed to herself absentmindedly, inserted a melody into her greetings or exclamations. It had been a while since she sang like this, however.
Hearing the praise, her tail thumped, ears gently planing. Thankfully, he wasn’t just saying that, and she was pleased. “Good to hear I’m not pitchy,” she grinned, and then chuckled slightly, because there was a song she knew that was just about that. Being out of tune.
He asked if she’d sung before. Her eyes opened slightly, an ear lifting at the question, but the night before them was not what slid behind her eyes. Malalia raised her head, jaws parting in a long yawn. “I have.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, gazed at the fire awhile before turning to Cai with a slight, complicated smile. “We… sang fairly often in my old pack — well, before I was born,” she amended, “But not so much, afterwards, so I was told. It was traditional to sing before a big hunt, raise everyone’s spirits and all that. Sometimes after, too. I heard a couple of rallies, though I only ever participated in one, when I was old enough to go hunting.”
Her eyes shone there at the memory of being joined with everyone in a great, undulating chorus, feeling the voices of her packmates pressing around her.
“My aunt and my dam sang to us, too,” she added, quieter. Mostly love songs and lullabies and the occasional plains tune. It wasn’t often; both of the women were busy. But it was enough to imprint a handful of favorites into her head.