At That Age

Satira smiled shyly when her mother asked what she did to deserve her and laid her paw over top her tinier one. Really, Tira didn't think of herself as anything exceptionally special. She just was who she was. The sable and fawn girl listened with only mild embarrassment while Aslatiel explained the nature of her relationship with her Uncle Indigo, how it was an unorthodox relationship, but not one she found issue with—so long as no children were conceived from it, as it was unideal. Tira's face flushed a bit at the thought; she'd never considered having puppies, but the thought of having them with Arcturus didn't exactly seem appealing to her either. That wasn't to say she didn't love her brother, of course! But she just couldn't picture doing things like kissing him the way she had with Azzurra or the way her mother kissed Indigo.

After a little bit of a game of stacking their paws led to girly giggles and mandatory snuggles, Satira nuzzled her face into the side of her mother's neck while Asla kissed her crown, drawing a happy smile to the yearling's face. These were the moments she loved—the times when she could still pretend everything was okay with her life. Her mother hadn't been distant and her father hadn't been absent and she didn't feel like an afterthought or a consequence of a past action. They were fleeting and few and far between, but she cherished whenever she found them. "Love you too, Mom," she replied as Asla inspected her, deigning her beautiful, just as she was, and declaring that brutes and faes alike would vie for her attention. Another blush painted color across her pallid cheeks, floppy ears flicking back while she gave an embarrassed groan. "Moooooom! C'mon! I'm not that pretty." It was no secret that Satira boasted much of her mother's own confidence—but a lifetime of questioning who she was and where she fit in, coupled with the taunting words of that red wolf had never stopped her from doubting herself.

Asla went on to state the attention of others was what she wanted to talk to her about, drawing Tira's attention back, until her mother began to talk about matters of love and sex. Now, Satira wasn't one to be ashamed to talk about anything, and this would be no different, but the girl was still radially inexperienced and naive when it came to adult matters such as these. She had the vague concept of where puppies came from that all parents imparted onto their very young children, but the finer details and mechanics had not been given to the girl yet. Asla told her to be proud of her skills, including the skills of love, and to never feel bad about her sexual tastes. "Oh, I, uh... I dunno about any skills, or any tastes," she mumbled sheepishly, shuffling her paws and fidgeting her toes to claw at the rock while averting her eyes down to those speckled feet.

Her mother advised her to love whoever she wanted and whenever, but to not get pregnant until she was ready. Tira bit her lip, shuffling her paws more anxiously. "Um... not really," she confessed when asked about contraceptive herbs. "Dad hasn't exactly taught me those kinds of things. I, um... I really don't know a whole lot... besides kissing." Gods, it felt like she was admitting some great shameful secret to her mother! Asla was so proud and confident and here she was, little Tira with no worldly knowledge, just winging it as she went.

"Satira"