It was the Goddess-child, Ilya was sure of it now. She had been found wandering the woods behind the village and nearly burned at the pyre in the square before Ilya heard a word of it. Apparently the two owls that now nestled in beside her had saved the girl. Swept from the dark sky into the smoke below to pluck her bodily from the flames. Looking at them, she could not see how. They were barely chicks themselves and yet... the way they responded to the girl made her sure of it. Divine blood flowed through her veins.
'Here, some soup,' Ilya murmured, smiling at the child encouragingly. 'There's meat in it.. Oh.' She broke off as a small motion of disgust broke her new charge's otherwise impassive demeanor. 'Yes, I see. I'll make another.'
Beside the child the owls moved in closer, as if sensing this momentary fluctuation in her calm. In a motion, all three beings turned their heads, fixing Ilya with a dark, wise gaze that was utterly disconcerting. When the girl finally spoke it was with the voice of a woman, rich and resonant:
'I will have to kill them, you know. They cannot be left unpunished after such an act.' Ilya started. It was the first time the child had spoken but she merely nodded in response. She knew, though the thought of this slip of a girl massacring the villagers amused more than terrified her. She would see the error in it, once the impulse passed.
'Let me make more soup,' the older woman replied soothingly. 'Can I get your...them, anything?' Indicating the owls which had gone back to preening the girl's hair.
'No. Thank you for your kindness.'
Ilya turned from them, moved back towards the kitchen, shaking her head ruefully at the idiocy of the villagers. Their superstitious folly. The girl, watching her thoughtfully, ran her fingers through the feathers of her familiars, prompting them to flex their wings in the firelight.
'Soon, my loves,' she whispered, too softly for Ilya's ears. Behind her, on the mud-daubed wall, their shadows stretched vast as dragons.
This piece is an entry for the 
