In a little clearing surrounded by dense brambles lived one of Iaune's most persistent neighbors. She was an atmos user with big eyes and a raucous laugh, and she thrived whenever the Homewood had something new to say, which was often, especially recently.
There weren't very many ascended noulicorns. It took a lot of work, and the Grandfather Tree's ways were unfathomable. So of course every time one made a proclamation, Iaune's neighbor went wild over it. It was worse because Brightheart was a Lifegiver, whose work and research selected specimens of yesteryear to return to Vykeli.
Iaune could not blame her, this time. This sort of rumor would have died quickly, were someone pretending - and news of a new, potentially intelligent species was big. That kind of thing was a real sign that Vykeli was coming back to life under nouls' hooves, and if everything worked out, Brightheart deserved whatever praise might be coming her way. It was the fact that she wanted Iaune to do something about it which irked them.
"Come on, you've got a proper gift and everything now!" she argued, hier tail swishing as she ambled out of her den.
"It's a gift," Iaune said. "I'm the same doe you've always known." Iaune had built a lot of routine and ritual into their life, but while sometimes they foalsat - briefly, and just until there was time to take them to a proper nanny - their lifestyle wasn't suited for caretaking. It was too unpredictable; Iaune never knew where they'd be working, each day, and "My home's half rot and I have things to be doing."
"One of those things could be looking after a new friend, you know," Iaune's neighbor hummed. Her pace had picked up, into a brisk trot, though Iaune was still making their own way. She knew Iaune's path, though, because it never changed. "Someone alive. Who can talk back to you."
"You don't know that they'll talk back." Not every lost creature of Vykeli could be a familiar, and though people were confident - well. There was a reason there were so few species, up until now. "Anyway, you talk plenty."
"I'll have you know I live my own life," the doe laughed, tossing her mane cheerfully. "Come on - it's not like it'll be a foal. They'll be self-sufficient, helpful - paws are much better for handling delicate material than hooves are, you know."
Iaune hadn't meant to say anything, but they didn't want their neighbor to keep going forever, either. Sometimes things didn't work out, and there were plenty of noulicorns who'd be happy to look after a living being. "Sounds like it'll suit you," they sighed, stepping neatly around a curly little root that marked a turn in their path.
"I think it'll suit you" she countered, turning to form a huffy obstacle in Iaune's path. Her tail swished out to the side like a flag on its pole. "You don't need to feed them - whoever they are. They'll just want to get to know Vykeli, and - you know our part of it better than anyone. It's just for a moon."
Iaune didn't have very many words for her. They turned, though, to make their way around her instead. They had a routine, and they wanted to finish it, and then go back to finding work.
"I didn't take you for a coward! It won't hurt, Iaune. I thought...the Grandfather Tree gave you that gift because it knows you're ready." Her jaw had fallen open, but she closed it now, turning her nose up. "You can meet me by the willow at sundown," she said, suddenly brusque. "If you know you're ready, too."
She turned away as quickly as she'd decided to come with, and the rest of Iaune's walk was as quiet as it always was.
They hadn't really meant to think about it again, but the words of the buck whose firebreak they were helping to construct brought that morning conversation to mind. "If I'm honest," he'd said, shaking his head. "I think - there are a lot of nouls who'd call themselves your friends. We're all grateful for what you do, and clearly even the Grandfather Tree has recognized it, now." He'd dropped his half of the stone they were carrying then, looking them carefully into their eyes. "But...I see you all the time, and I don't know what you want. You don't have to ask me for it, but..."
He'd trailed off, then, and Iaune had closed the topic with a simple, "I'll think about it."
Well, it was sundown now, and they could see their neighbor trotting cheerily up to the willow, laughter evident in every line of her body. "You...would you help me, if I couldn't handle it?" they asked, feeling like they were standing upon new ground.
"Anytime," she beamed.
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