Fort Ardent

The trip from the den to the meeting place passed in a drowsy fog for the tiny sleeping Abraxas girl. She was so used to being carried around that being picked up barely registered. Any jolts or bumps caused her to stir, mutter, and kick a bit but then she'd go limp again and faded off into dreamland, her mouth parted just far enough to let out small whistling snores. It was only once she was set down that she jolted awake and stayed awake.  

Dantalian settled down on the pelt for all of two seconds before an energy she hadn't possessed pre-nap perked her up into an upright, sphinyx-like position. Like her father she was sick often, but unlike him, her good times were really good. And right now was one of those times. She felt great. Like, run around in circles, climb walls and/or mom and paint the ravine with mud great. She would not be swathed in blankets anymore today! Nope, on her good days it was almost like instinct demanded she make up for lost time because she raced from new thing to new thing, exploring every inch of her surroundings with wild abandon.

A small gaggle of relatives soon converged on the spot and Dantalian's attention darted from face to face as she tried to understand why they were gathered. She vaguely remembered a howl of warning rousing her some time before her mother picked her up. Another dim memory, this one of her father saying something about joining the defenders, surfaced. There was fighting? Immediately her thoughts flashed back to her father's stories. While sick, she'd often snuggle and commiserate with her father. He'd entertain her for hours with stories about valiant Abraxas heroes subduing backward heathen hordes, and it was with those stories in mind she watched as uncle Eligos walked away. Dantalian puffed out her chest. Like those olden tyme Abraxas it was her duty to fight too!

After twisting a pelt around her like a cape Dantalian leaped excitedly after Eligos. She was gonna fight the heathens.

-exit unless stopped-