“Ouch.”
She looked down, frowning at the white lion cub that had wrapped itself around her ankle and begun to chew. “Stop it now,” she said firmly, sliding her foot up from between its grasping paws. It blinked cross-eyed up at her, unable to understand why anyone wouldn’t want to be nibbled on. It opened its mouth and offered a roar that was perhaps less impressive than it imagined.
Imraldera shook her head but bent and picked it up, allowing it to gnaw on the end of her head scarf as she turned her attention once more to the forest. Deep amid its shadows she could see lights approaching: faint, many-colored lights like fireflies but constant in their glow. She believed they were coming to the Haven.
“Raaaaawr,” said the lion cub, putting a velveted paw on her nose. A subtle threat, implying, I could use my claws if I wanted to. Imraldera pushed the paw away and shifted the cub so that it lay like a baby in her arms, its little paws curled over its chest. It blinked sweetly and fell asleep with a suddenness that might as well be magic.
The lights drew nearer in such number that, small though they were, they set the Wood to glowing as they neared. Soon Imraldera’s ear caught the faint sound of a song being sung by a pair of merry voices. One voice she did not recognize, though she thought it belonged to a child.
The other she knew as well as her own.
“For she is a darling, dreadful gel,
Her face so fierce, your heart will quell!
I’ll have no other, have no other
To dance with me but her!
“Oh, she is a darling, dreadful gel, If you can’t love her, run pell-mell!
She glanced my way, and hard I fell.
I’ll dance with none but her!”
Soon, lit by the fey glow of Nidawi’s rescued people, Nidawi herself came into view of the Haven, a dancing, laughing Faerie child, her elbow linked with Eanrin’s as they sang at the tops of their voices.
Despite the merriment of their song, Imraldera felt her heart lurch at the sight, and she hugged the lion cub more tightly to her. It awoke and shook its head, then turned, ears pricked toward the sound of those approaching. When it scrambled, Imraldera put it down and watched it bound into the clearing beyond the Haven door. There it sat, tail twitching, as Nidawi and Eanrin stepped through the greenery.
Nidawi stopped her singing at once, her eyes fixing upon the cub with a concentration that bordered on ferocious. Her nose twitched, and the vines twining her hair twisted suddenly with alertness.
The cub gazed up at her, its head a little to one side. “Raawwr,” it said, which was probably meant to be intimidating.
“Raawwr!” Nidawi replied, dropping to all fours. She crawled to the cub, and the two of them touched noses, and all the Faerie lights brightened and whispered together, pointing at the scene below.
Imraldera stepped over the threshold, her arms crossed defensively. But her voice was sweet and perhaps a little humble when she said, “I thought you two might like each other.” She avoided Eanrin’s eye but was all too aware when he drew nearer to her. She smiled at Nidawi, who tentatively touched the top of the cub’s head with one finger. “You seem as though . . . as though you might find much in common.”
Nidawi sat up. She did not smile or laugh or show any signs of pleasure. Her face, though clothed in a child’s features, was solemn and quiet, and her eyes looked dark for a moment. Indeed, Imraldera felt her heart stop, and she braced herself for she knew not what.
Then Nidawi said, “I shall call him Lion.”
Imraldera nodded and found she was able to breathe again. “It is an apt name,” she said.
“Rawwr,” said the cub before pouncing on Nidawi’s foot. Nidawi cuffed him and sent him rolling, which pleased him mightily, for he pounced on her hand next and bit it, hard. Anyone other than the Everblooming would have screamed, but Nidawi giggled and picked up the cub. While he dangled in her arms, chewing affectionately on anything he could reach, she turned to Imraldera.
“Tadew is gone,” she said. As she spoke, she lengthened, transforming into a strong woman with a beautiful, sad face. “My demesne was destroyed by the Parasite.”
“I am sorry,” said Imraldera, her heart in her words. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
“Loss?” Nidawi shrugged, then looked up at the lights surrounding her. They, as though beckoned, flooded down and lit upon her and on the lion cub, who tried to eat them but could catch none. Their colors turned the whole of the evening into a bath of rainbow light, and Nidawi was more beautiful than ever in that glow.
“My children are safe,” she said. “They have lost their bodies, but they have not lost themselves!”
The lights, unable to find places to settle upon Nidawi, turned then to Imraldera. They rushed to her, and she felt the beat of wings, the touch of many tiny hands. And she could hear voices now as they drew closer.