Sonder wished she had a hairbrush.
Again and again, she felt something come loose when she ran her fingers through her hair, but after a while, she thought that it would just have to do.
The featherling hovered nearby, drifting in lazy, uneven loops, watching Sonder work on her hair.
It came closer with something she now recognized as curiosity or something close to it.
Sonder turned toward her and reached out.
"Let's see about you," she said.
But she didn't know what she was expecting.
There was no hair to brush or feathers to smooth.
The featherling was, or looked like, a creature made entirely of dust. Any natural part of it could be mistaken for ordinary dust.
But there didn't seem to be any grime clinging to it or any other signs of wear.
It simply was.
Carefully, Sonder let the featherling settle onto her open palm. She studied it and frowned thoughtfully, as if she was trying to understand what she was holding.
"If you really are an egg," she murmured, "or a larva… then I don't think you need careful cleaning, do you? Not until you hatch."
The featherling drifted up from her palm and brushed gently against Sonder's shoulder, in what felt like a contented nudge.
Then she smiled, lifting her hand and fingers carefully to pet the featherling. The dust shifted beneath her touch, responding in faint ripples.
Another thought settled in her mind. She couldn't keep calling her featherling.
"She," Sonder said softly, as the lord of the dark lands had told her. "You need a name."
She glanced toward her companion. "Do you want one?"
The featherling gave a quiet sound in response, something between a coo and a hum, and circled once through the air, a little faster than before.
"I'll take that as a yes."
She thought for a moment, then another.
"I'll find one," she promised. "Something fitting."
She hesitated, then tried aloud. "Zephyr, maybe? Or Aether?"
The featherling stopped in the air. Then she made a low, unhappy coo, drifting a little farther away before circling back.
"Alright. Not those. Don't worry. I'll think of one you like."
With that, she finished packing her things, closed her pack, and swung it over her shoulders. Staff in hand, she turned her attention forward once more.
She followed the faint blue line that pulled at her senses, guiding her to what she wanted most.