When she'd first tumbled out of the tunnel of astral energy and into the departing Wyld Hunt-- though at the time, all she'd known was that she was surrounded by things she didn't understand, small and large, all hurrying to get somewhere-- Ranshee was livid. She wanted to tear that black chyrith into shreds. Very small, very bloody shreds. Not only had he stolen her kill-- which she'd managed to bring down on her own and in human form, no less-- he'd transported her to some alien place where she understood no one and no one understood her. Even the smells were different. She was far from her own territory, small and lonely though it was, and she had no idea whether here she would be chased away, welcomed, or killed outright.

She had been dropped right into the middle of a group of huge, furless, yet chyrith-like creatures, the small, equally furless, delicate creatures Ranshee vaguely remembered were humans, and things that looked like something in between, animal-like yet human-like, all babbling in some language Ranshee had never heard before. Ranshee's grasp of her native chytonian language wasn't even very good. Trying to figure out what everyone was saying in this language was even more baffling-- though something of a relief, since she really had no experience with these words, so there was no feeling as if she should understand, but didn't remember.

In the confusion of winged, chyrith-like things taking off with their humans and almost-humans on their backs, Ranshee was easily overlooked. Human-formed-- though still furry and wolf-eared and dressed only in crude, worn, cloth tunic-- she was very small, smaller than all of the humans and almost-humans. Though she was angry, she also did not want to die. Powerful fury was one thing, but self-preservation and fear in a new and confusing place was even more overpowering. She'd balled herself up on the rocky, frozen ground, her arms protecting her head and her eyes squeezed shut, and waited for the flurry to die down, so she could take stock of where she was now and escape, if need be.

It had, almost immediately in fact, died down: the chyrith-like creatures and their burdens disappeared as soon as they took to the air. The magic involved in such a thing, palpable and powerful, made Ranshee's head spin. It was well beyond her own meager control, though she expected most of her father's kin could manage something like that-- but at the same time it was somehow more earthy and grounded than the spells that usually ran away from her-- or with her.

Being faced with a force like that, Ranshee knew she'd have no chance, if they tried to run her off. It was unlikely they'd just accept her; their pack was surely large enough already, and powerful enough, that they wouldn't need her to join it-- and even if they did, she'd be at the bottom of the hierarchy, at best. As strong as her desire for pack acceptance, she had finally come to understand that her long and lonely autonomy made it next to impossible for her to take the abuse often due a low-caste pack member.

So here and now, the only thing she could do was escape. Snow drifted around her, clinging to the fur on her arms and the wild mane of silver about her ears and face. The wind was cold and cutting, but surely there would be a warm cave somewhere to hide in until the storm died down. But, though she wanted to be away and presumably safer, Ranshee had no idea which way to go. She cast about in confusion for a moment, turning nose and ears to the wind and darting her eyes around at the vast whiteness. The snow muted scents, dampened sounds, and both blurred and shortened her normally keen line of sight. Which was was freedom? Which was was wilderness? Which way was home?

A voice behind her, words indecipherable and tone rough, made Ranshee spin and drop into a tense, wary crouch, teeth bared and eyes narrowed. A black creature, not very much taller than herself with a wolf-like muzzle and ears, something white wrapped around his head, and sharp eyes stood there, watching her. He repeated whatever it was he said, and she growled defensively back at him, taking a step back, ready to bolt or spring if she needed to. The black, wolfish thing didn't look like he could put up much of a fight-- his hands shook and he was even more slender than she was-- but if he had magic, she would be better off running than trying to counter him, especially as off-balance and out of place as she felt now.

The creature's next words had the tone of a question, an impatient question at that, but she still didn't understand. "What?" she snarled, one word she never, ever forgot. "Do not. I do not-- know. Understand you!"

Cold, silver eyes narrowed and flicked away from her. Ranshee looked sharply where he did, expecting reinforcements-- and was not at all disappointed, though she tensed in preparation to make a run for it. Slinking up beside the black one was another, much larger black one-- another winged chyrith-like creature, like the ones before, with eyes fixed on her. He'd come to chase her off or dispatch her on the spot, aberration that she was, and she could only struggle with her magic in the hopes that she might be able to distract them long enough for her to escape.

But then, nothing of the sort happened. Instead.... ::You hear this, yes?::

Ranshee jumped, snarling instinctively with surprise, but then she shook herself vigorously and responded in kind, with her usual blunt and direct mind-speech. ::Yes. Who are you?::

This time it was the large black one's turn to shake his head, as if her speech somehow disturbed or discomfited it. Ranshee wasn't surprised; even her former, false packmates had found the powerful honesty too intimate, the heavily image- and emotion-laden speech difficult to wade through. It was easier than trying to make sense of her words, or lack of them, however-- and in this case, probably the only way to communicate.

::Nocol'Fita,:: the creature answered. ::And Noiku.:: The latter referred to the wolf-human-thing-- no, fox-human thing. Fleshshifter. Noiku. Bonded mind-to-mind to Nocol'Fita. A dragon. Hurt in the mind by Drakiera. Hunting dragons. Sly. Smart. 

Everything leaked into her mind with those words, much the way she sent more than just words with her own mindspeech. For a moment, the background information made her blink dizzily, but then the world settled as the chyrith like creature-- dragon-- withdrew again. ::Ranshee,:: she returned simply, though "simple" wasn't what she sent. Her whole self-image was attached to her name. Nocol'Fita-- and Noiku, who she also projected to, now that she remembered that she had such an ability. The fox-human cringed back, putting a shaking hand to his bandaged head, but the dragon spared him only a glance, taking in the word-name-concept without comment.

::Where you from?:: he asked, but the background with those words was of the place she found herself in now: Shivran Aerd, eternally enshrouded in snow, home to Gepernan style dragons and their maker, on a world called Mythiclae. 

None of it, neither names, images, nor feelings associated with both, was at all familiar, and Ranshee was obscurely frightened by that. No matter how brave or self-sufficient she was, the thought of being trapped, alone, in a completely unfamiliar place, was frightening. She tried to keep that from her mind-voice, projecting as much gruff pride as she could, as she answered, ::Far, very-far, a place I-Ranshee know not a name for. Different: like this.:: Nocol'Fita found himself bombarded with a holistic picture of Chytonia: scents, sounds, sights, and sensations of life in the mountains there, where Ranshee had spent most of her time. His head snapped back and he blinked a few times, but recovered more quickly than Noiku, who actually sagged against the dragon's foreleg with a pained expression; Ranshee had sent the same mindscape to him, and it didn't seem like he was taking it well. She frowned at him.

::That is not Mythiclae,:: the dragon confirmed her half-formed notion, then added warningly, with less mental eloquence, ::Noiku is hurt-- your mind-picture-words not helping.:: There was the sense that "not helping" was an understatement. ::Please stop.::

It was not really a request, and the "tone" brought a growl to Ranshee's throat, but she subdued it before it got too loud. As much as she detested submission, she didn't stand a chance against this... dragon. And she really didn't mean to hurt him, after all, so there was no reason to insist on doing so. Just how something mental could hurt him, she didn't know, but she wasn't about to question it. Noiku didn't look all that comfortable, so it was probably true. She nodded shortly, and the dragon echoed the movement. For a moment, there was silence, mental and physical.

::Where should I go?:: Ranshee finally broke the silence by asking. In the question was her surety that she wouldn't be welcome as a part of this "pack", and a desire just for somewhere safe to eventually make her own.

There was another pause, while dragon and fox-human exchanged glances and words which Ranshee couldn't even begin to understand, before Nocol'Fita said, ::Come. There is something for you, but you must wait. For the next Hunt. So Noiku will find you room here.::

::Hunt? What is this Hunt?::

The dragon smiled a sly, toothy smile, echoed by the fox-human, and told her.

Chapter Two 

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