She was new to this world, new to the ice that coursed through her veins and the coldness in the air. The little girl shivered in the warmth of her mother's fur, although she was warming up. Her name was Marigold, and she was a curious little bugger.
Marigold moved through her mother's fur. She was hungry, and it seemed she was going to find a source of food even if she died in the process. Marigold triumphantly found it, and began to suckle.
She heard noises around her, and likened these to be the sounds of creatures like her. But most of what she was hearing was the wind in the trees, the ripping of plant roots then the sound of the plant being plopped or dragged, or even no noise as it was carried, and also sometimes Marigold would hear the chatter of a chipmunk, screaming its woes at the wolves that dared make it nervous.
Then came her mother's voice: a beautiful sound. "Rambaldi, Kára, dears, get over here. Kruam, where-oh there you are. Pyro!" Were these the names of her siblings? The little pup did not know. Then she heard a less beautiful voice, one that did not appeal to Marigold nearly as much.
"My queen, do you need anything?" Queen. What was a queen?
"No Rachel, thank you. Other than a zeta." Marigold's mother chuckled, a pretty sound. Mari wanted more of it. She needed more. What could she do to get it?
”Queen Irina, they’re very beautiful. My congratulations to you,” the other female voice said. ”I look forward to seeing them grow.” Was a queen somebody of power? Marigold wanted to know why her mom was being called that so much. She nestled in to avoid the wind.