such small hands

Sister, he calls her, and Amalia is not sure what to do with the wave of emotion that the statement evokes, threatening to envelop her, drown her, fill her lungs and veins and heart. So she smiles shyly and looks away, the things his simple affirmation meant scrawled clearly across her angular face. She has never been called a sister before. It is a strange and precious thing, one she dare not risk damaging again with words. Rory pulls away from them, letting his body sink onto the soft, damp ground- and in not much time, Jigano follows. For a moment Amalia only watches, the feeling of being outside coiling again at the base of her belly, cooling the warmth she so keenly felt. It is good that they cannot see her face, nor the ugly, jealous thing which briefly flits across it, threatening to douse her happy glow. She may be a sister, but they are a pair, and she will always fit a different role in their trio: welcome, perhaps, but not needed. With a shake of her head and a quiet sigh, Amalia pushes that doubt away, forcing it to coil and curl and retreat as something stronger takes hold. Without a word she begins to change, silently shifting into her better form, the last body a warm insulation against the chill of a frightening world. Rising onto four legs, the girl draws near her supine friends, ready to rejoin their embrace. With a gentle wuff she nudges the hunter, indicating that he and Jigano should raise their heads and place them back upon her. She slides beneath them easily, her tail landing on Jigano's tail, her head resting by Rory's face. Dark, feline eyes peer into his blue as a steady rumbled purr begins to rise from her chest. Reaching out with her cold nose to touch his cheek, Amalia silently urges the man to continue, letting her head return to her paws as she waits for the other shoe to drop. a m a l i a You were young and you'd stare With a reverence unimpaired Searching in your dark eyes to find the stars already there