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Aurin holds his mother's hand as she leads him from the street to his aunt and uncle's house. He's been here only a couple of times, and can't remember most of them distinctly; they're sort of awkwardly related, his dead father's half-brother and the wife thereof. But now they have a baby parunia, and that means there is a dragon related to Aurin who is not too far from his age, only thirty-one years younger. This is apparently the sort of relation that it will be particularly enriching for Aurin to meet. They can do this now instead of waiting a month, because parunias don't die when they're babies; this one is safe, unlike the miscellaneous cousins on his mother's side he's never met because they are all in too much danger to get attached to (and have all succumbed to that danger). So here they are. Even though it was a very long flight and he couldn't ride his mother for takeoff and landing when she had to be a heron, only for the middle part.
Alys knocks on the door.
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Mial resists the removal of his blanket! He cannot be such a lump without his blanket! He clutches it tightly in his teeny hands.
Mial is very determined to keep his blanket! But he is also pretty teeny. Aurin is much stronger. The blanket comes off.
"Give that back!"
"Give that back!"
"You can have it back after you fly." Perhaps Mial will just fly and Aurin will not have to resort to drastic measures.
Aurin flings the blanket across the room and scoops Mial up in a huggly sort of carry-hold.
He carries him over towards the window and manages with some effort to climb onto the chair.
He carries him over towards the window and manages with some effort to climb onto the chair.
Mial squawks.
A very angry merlin comes zooming up, barrels in the window, and flies directly into Aurin's face, yelling. "AURIN YOU JERK! I COULD'VE LOST A FORM!"
"I could've anyway if I was unlucky," he says, flapping agitatedly with his wee bird feet clutching Aurin's shirt.
Mial becomes human and sits upon Aurin and glares down at him, tiny arms folded in unconscious imitation of his father.
"Hmph."
"Hmph."
"I do not, and anyway it makes me tired not to and then I don't want to more, whose stupid idea was that," says Mial.
"Hmph," he says, and he goes and gets his blanket and wraps it around himself and glares at Aurin from within it. He looks ridiculous. And much less lumpy, even still.