Wear It Like Armor

Her father's calm and soothing voice called out to her from behind her, making the little girl turn in a flurry of tawny fur. Just like that, there he was, always right when she needed him to be. Satira gazed up at her father with crestfallen and pained eyes. She was growing like a weed, but she was still ever so small, just under half of her sire's height. The pup eagerly gave herself to the embrace her father pulled her into, burying her face into Mojito's silky fur—the same sort of fur that matched hers in texture and length—and did her best to keep from falling apart. Fatalises didn't cry. Fatalises didn't show weakness. She was supposed to be strong and confident, like her mother. She was supposed to be calm and rational, like her father. But inside she just felt... broken.

"Daddy, is there..." She paused, trying to keep her words from quivering with the emotion welling up inside her. "...is there something wrong with me?" She peeled her face back to look up into Mojito's, the crystalline tears welling up in the corners of those pale blue pools. She looked at her father's ears, bent and flopped like hers. There couldn't be anything wrong with them, right? She looked like her dad, and he was so composed and sure. She didn't voice the questions she had in her head just yet. She didn't want to give power to the doubts of why she didn't feel normal and why they didn't look like everyone else. It felt too much like admitting defeat, and she didn't want to make her father feel bad either.

"Satira"