It'll All Be a Breeze!

Featuring Nimwen

Spring, Year 765 of the New Age

Windborne, the Sorghum Peaks

    Nimwen  was far ahead of her fathers. There was a fire under her hooves; the  day had come for her family to celebrate her newfound magic. They would  meet with a stormbringer, and Nim would eat Adderweed Pods... the  thought of it made her steps bounce, and pushed her faster. Even the  wind was pushing her -- or maybe that was her doing. She smirked and  toyed with the breeze. It may have still been small, but it was  something of a thrill to her young heart.

    “Slow down,” Sadron scolded, to deaf ears. “Slow down… Nimwen!”

    “I’m not a filly anymore.” Hardly breaking pace, Nimwen turned on her heels and walked backwards for a few steps. She just had to show her fathers the look on her face -- and how how she got her  mane to flutter in her little breeze. “Isn’t that the point of today?”

    Apparently, Sadron was in no mood for attitude. Beleg was more lax; he allowed her a chuckle, at least.

    “If you’re going to be a big, grown-up doe,” said the latter stag, “you ought to act like one.”

    Nimwen  threw her head back. Beleg had a smile on his face, but he was on  Sadron’s side. She was excited, couldn’t she show it a little? She  turned to walk forwards again.

    “We’re  celebrating your coming-of-age, and your new connection to magic,”  Sadron reminded her. “Finding your link to the wind is no small thing.”

    “I knowwww,”  Nimwen drawled. She had the feeling she shouldn’t have, like Sadron was  at his limit behind her, but she didn’t want to hear the whole spiel  again.

    It took a moment  for her to realize the absence of their steps. She looked back; Sadron  and Beleg had stopped, and were simply watching her, a serious look on  both faces. The little cold feeling of regret crept up in her chest.

    “We know you’re eager, Nim,” said Sadron, “but this really is important.”

    Nimwen frowned. “... It’s a celebration, isn’t it?”

    “It’s  a ceremony,” Beleg corrected. “Think about it, Nim. If you want to be a  soldier, you need to learn when to…” The large stag struggled for the  right words.

    “Behave,” Sadron chimed in.

    “I  was going to say, ‘compose yourself’,” Beleg finished with a pointed  look at Sadron, but the herbalist looked quite confident in his  addition.

    Nimwen shuffled and looked down at her feet. “I just thought it was going to be fun.”

    Both of them sighed, now. Sadron came to her side and nosed her cheek.

    “It  will be, but ‘fun’ doesn’t always mean zipping around like a tasmanian  devil,” he said, softer now. Beleg was close behind, though his nudge  was more of a bump on her shoulder.

    “You can do that afterwards,” he added.

    They’d  gotten her to smile again. Though she still felt the fire in her feet,  Nimwen obliged them a slower pace -- though just slow enough to stay  beside them, nothing more.