Children are so fragile, Vilaere thought as she watched her daughter in the garden. Itteri was one of the darker-plumed Avans, now that she had molted for the first time and grown out her first permanent coat of feathers; it made her stand out among the pastel and primary colors of the flowers.

With a soft rustle of silken robes, Vilaere opened the translucent cloth curtain that kept insects and small animals out of their modest house in Irit-Ykinde. "Child," she called quietly, and her daughter's head swung around instantly. It wasn't the quick head-turn of a bird, as it should have been; it was the muzzle-swivel of a predator. Vilaere tried not to frown. "It is time for your meal, child. Come inside and wash."

Itteri rose from her knees and brushed her clawed hands off against her thighs. She was still a little wobbly, all long, skinny legs and not enough plumage in her tail to help her balance, but there was also something else that always set her off-kilter. Her mother told her it was just her body trying to grow to fit her legs, but Itteri wasn't so sure.

The curtain was closed again, her mother gone inside to the wash basin to mist herself for having poked a head outside, into the dusty air. Itteri walked with only a little gawkiness inside, pausing briefly to rub her talons against the thick floor rug right inside the curtain. The rich soil of the garden and some of the pollen smeared across the woven fibers, marring the lovely picture in reds and golds. Itteri grinned impishly, eyes slitting and plumed crest flaring in the expression.

"Child!" The young Avan looked up at her mother's disapproving voice. "Do not dawdle. Wash yourself so that you may eat."

Vilaere watched her daughter obediently head towards the wash basin, scrubbing her little hands diligently before misting her entire body to more easily wipe the dust away. The older Avan sighed quietly, lifting a hand to adjust her veil. Itteri was the quietest child of her age; she never spoke to her peers and only very rarely to her parents. For an Avan, a social creature, it was nearly unheard-of for a child not to be learning to speak and chattering away at anyone who would listen. It worried her mother.

Itteri came back, feathers gleaming with slight dampness. Vilaere smiled with crest but not eyes and gestured to the table, where she'd laid out a small selection of freshly cut fruits, a small cup of tea, and a thick slice of warm bread. Her daughter sat and ate methodically, all too aware of her mother's eyes on her.

When she was done, Itteri put her plate and cup into the other wash basin and returned to the garden to play. For once, Vilaere followed her outside, blinking and wincing at the direct sunlight. "What are you doing out here, child?" she asked.

Itteri looked up with large, dark eyes, then pointed to the tiny spot of the garden she had cleared of weeds. There was a small flower there, surrounded by bare dirt.

"You are... playing with the... flower?"

Itteri nodded mutely. With a sigh, her mother went back inside, and the sound of her washing could be heard through the thin curtain. Itteri's crest flared, and she knelt before the flower, cupping her lean hands around it without actually touching the fresh petals.

The child closed her eyes and concentrated, and the flower grew another inch.