Delah
The stones we cut, the songs we made
If there were a rope between them, it tightens as the paler feline mentions a request. For her people, Delah will hear their complaints and needs from dawn to dusk. For this outsider, however strange and welcome by the forest though she may be, the war chief has far less patience.
Many emotions waft through the bond, like feathers shot out of a cannon. Fury. Confusion. Dispair. Worry. Shock (Vi?), and so on. The large feline sits, her tail wrapping snugly around her paws as she regards her lighter counterpart.
I do not believe Safrin can die. Delah said distantly. Vi and Mort would not let it happen. Would she be reduced to galactic ash? Potentially. But she could never be gone.
Many of my people have contracted the blight as well. The failure and tension in her voice is nearly palpable. And...yours? Have any of you become sick?
Many emotions waft through the bond, like feathers shot out of a cannon. Fury. Confusion. Dispair. Worry. Shock (Vi?), and so on. The large feline sits, her tail wrapping snugly around her paws as she regards her lighter counterpart.
I do not believe Safrin can die. Delah said distantly. Vi and Mort would not let it happen. Would she be reduced to galactic ash? Potentially. But she could never be gone.
Many of my people have contracted the blight as well. The failure and tension in her voice is nearly palpable. And...yours? Have any of you become sick?
