User blog comment:SCORNFUL1/Audience With A Vampire: Ask Armata De'Sange/@comment-28358106-20171106221206/@comment-28358106-20171107013738

"It's an egg!" Partha says enthusiastically, before calming down a bit. "Well, um, not a real one.  You can't eat it, or hatch it, or...um..."

Tirush sighs and puts a hand on Partha's head, practically enveloping it entirely. "It is difficult to explain," she says, her eyes moving up and her free hand waving. "It is...how do you say...doll egg.  Not real.  An unreal one to prepare the little ones for when the real ones come."

She adjusts her stance as she explains. "The little ones, they grow quickly.  We do not have many seasons, not many snows, before they begin to think about the men.  When they do, the hatchlings quickly come." She chuckles a bit before continuing.

"So while they are grown, but not yet of the Fire, they learn what it is to be a woman.  They must learn what it is to feed a little one, warm a little one.  They must stay with it when they are in the lair,  and not leave it for more than between the sun's sleep and awakening.  For each meal, they set aside some food, that they may learn what it is to give.  For a season, one passing of the summer and winter, they learn what it is to sacrifice."

"But it does not begin there.  The ritual begins when the mother knows the time is right for her child to understand.  So the child goes on her first great Hunt, her Tarrak, her first Quest for her Fire.  She must go to the great Forge, where our people come from, then fly beyond it, to the fire mountain.  Her mother guides her there, if her people are a journey away.  There, she must find, where the fire meets the waters, a stone.  Not black, and not large, but round.  She must take it, and melt it with her breath, and roll it until it is smooth."

"Then, on her return, the snows have come, and it is time for the prey to be the color of the moon.  She must find a rabbit, or a fox, and take it, but not break the skin.  She must take the skin, and clean it, until it is as the snows."

Tirush shrugs. "Then, the daughter returns with the mother to the lair.  Each night, after prey is cooked and eaten and the stars are bright, she must spend the time polishing the Vraan with the White Pelt, polishing and polishing, each night for a year, until it glows like the Fire, as you see."

She nods. "In this way, the daughter learns what it means to give, and to sacrifice.  And when she is done, her gem is the story of her true heart, for now she knows."

"And it's pretty!" Partha nods rapidly.