On a cliff overlooking a sleeping valley, Drocus and his daughter, Astera, sat and waited. It was early when he scooped her out of her mother’s arms for this morning excursion. The distance they traveled was great, but as a Holy One, the running time was short. He enjoyed this new ability of his. The valley they were watching was behind the mountains they knew as the Ulgan Mountains, tucked into a canyon that looked for all intents and purposes like a bowl, the entrance only found once a great deal of climbing was done.
The valley was webbed with a dense fog that licked up the rock faces surrounding it. The air was cool, but comfortable. Tiny Astera was curious enough that her sleepy almond shaped eyes, dark and aware, swept the scene in front of her in confusion.
“Papa?” Drocus touched his finger to her lips, and pointed to the valley below. They waited. As dawn made its entrance, the fog began to lift and Astera let out a gasp. From wall to wall, the canyon was full of beautiful doe. “Oh, Papa! Why are they here?”
Drocus pointed to a plateau across from them. There it was. Standing at the edge of the mesa stood a stag, tall and proud. Astera smiled big, and wrapped her arms around Drocus’ neck. Drocus was happy to see his daughter light up at such wonders, and especially glad that he could share them with her. The providence of her birth was still a mystery to them all. She had begun her life as a Sylvan-fairy, but with the help of the Creator of Time, here she sat in Drocus’ lap as his daughter. She had the appearance of a four year old infant, with red, curly hair and the dark eyes of the Drow. Her knowledge would sometimes seem beyond her peers, then return to that of his little girl. Then there was the issue of her powers. Time will help her discover them, he knew, and all he could do was simply be there for her as she did.
Thanks for reading this. I am only as successful as the support I get from all of you. Thanks for being there for me. ~ Lottie M Hancock