Well this was an awkward moment to stumble across her childhood friends. Interrupting a moment of tension and strife, anger and tear-stained cheeks. A standoff where they’d always stood together. But then, so much had changed for her since the last time they’d been together. It was only natural they’d changed too.

Lilitha cleared her throat and stepped out of the shadow of the trees lining their impromptu battleground. Funny, she looked more like Spear now than Spark did, in build at least. Large and broad and solid, hard and scarred with little in the way of soft curves or feminine grace.

They could almost have been related. Except, of course, for their drastically different coloring. Her glittering gold eyes to his red and black. His vast patches of white to her solid black, marred only by the jagged scars where wings had once been. And of course the red of her mane and tail, a gift from a mother who had wanted nothing to do with her.

“Hi,” she murmured softly, ducking her head and peeking at the twins through thick black lashes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t...I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can go if you...if you want space to sort things out. But I’ve missed you very much, and it’s good to see you.” She bit her lip and lifted her head, looking at the pair of them head on.

They looked at one another, a silent exchange that said far more than she could read. She had after all, had very little interaction with others of her species these last years, and the subtle nuances of their nonverbal communication went a bit over her head.

But they turned to her and smiled, and with that one moment of welcome she was suddenly back among friends. Don’t go, they asked her, stay, and just like that, she was home again. Or as home as she ever got, at least.

“Okay,” she agreed, her face relaxing into a smile to match theirs, quiet and welcoming as they stepped closer and offered soft touches that evoked a gentle, glowing warmth in her chest. “I’d like that.” And she offered her own soft touches in return, gently exploring the curve of Spark’s neck, the hard plane of Spear’s shoulder.

They traced the scars that marred her back, and she shuddered as their lips traced the puckered flesh. Almost no one ever touched her, as and certainly not there. It didn't hurt, hadn’t in a long time, but there was something inexplicably intimate about even those soft, friendly touches that had her pulling back just a little, a quiet gasp of indrawn breath chased by a whispered apology.

“I’m sorry.”

She flushed and ducked her head again, cleared her throat and explained, “The fire came back, and it...it burned them away. I was...I was alone for a long time. Couldn't follow my fath...the man who adopted me to his new home, so I’ve spent most of my time in the forest by myself. It...the fire used to hurt me, but it doesn't anymore. That's...that's really all there is to tell, I guess.”

She glanced at Spark, and then at Spear. “What about you? What has happened to you? It’s been a very long time, my friends.”

Lilitha immediately missed their touch, her heart aching as the pair of them stepped back, gave her distance. Even if she was the one who’d pulled back first. Still, it was easier to catch her breath as the odd tingling rush that their gentle exploration of her scars had awoken faded away. Not unpleasant, just...just new, and entirely unexpected. A little too much, all at once.

And then Spark’s lips were on her cheek, and that quiet ache in her chest eased. Better, this was better. This, she could do. She returned the touch, the furrow of her brow relaxing, her lips curving gently as she brushed the side of her nose against Spark’s cheek in turn. And Spear, running his teeth through her hair, oh, that was nice.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, leaning into Spear’s lovely, determined attempt to groom her mane. A lost cause, her hair was a wild tangle of red with a mind of its own, but it felt good letting him try. She rubbed her cheek against his strong, broad neck and gently scratched his shoulder with her own teeth. Half-heartedly, though. She was far more inclined to trace the line of his shoulder with her nose, breathe in the almost-forgotten scent of him, and reach up to wrap herself around him, pull him into a quiet little hug.

Yes. That was much better.

Spark’s cheek on her shoulder coaxed another soft little smile to Lilitha’s lips, and she turned her attention back to her friend, gently tugging her a little closer, draping her neck across Spark’s and breathing her in too, noticing as she did the way their scents were so much more distinct from one another now, less mingled and blurred until they could almost have been two halves of a whole.

“I suppose it’s only natural to grow apart some,” she said softly, with a quiet little squeeze to offer comfort and support. “You have your own lives to live, and sometimes that means taking different paths, spending time apart. Distance, where once there was such closeness.” And the way her indrawn breath shook and the sudden wave of sadness that washed over her told her maybe she wasn’t just talking about the two of them. “But you’re family, and that’s important. You’ll find a way to...to be there for each other, something that gives you both the space you need to grow but still lets you love each other.”

She hoped. She maybe even believed it. But what did Lilitha know of family? Maybe it was just wishful thinking, that anyone could ever make it work. Maybe it wasn’t just her, maybe everyone was cursed to suffer heartache and loneliness and loss, growing up and growing apart until there was nothing left of the strength and beauty of their bond.

“Thanks, Spark,” she whispered, pulling back to press her lips to the line of her friend’s shoulder. “I did miss it. It was gone just long enough for me to fall in love with my wings, and it...it hurt. A lot. For a long time. But it’s okay now. It’s back to...normal, I guess? Whatever that even means. I can use it without feeling like I’m burning alive, anyhow. Which is, I guess, a nice change of pace.”

Even if part of her had come to crave it. To love it. She could have stopped using it entirely, but that would have meant letting their god’s cruelty go unchallenged, letting the world win. And Lilitha was nothing if not stubborn. She’d used her fire more than ever, and survived the pain of it the only way she could.

And now?

She sighed, resting the weight of her head against Spear’s shoulder, rubbing her cheek against his solid strength. Now she’d find a way to let go. Or to adjust back, or something. She’d get there. One step at a time. For now, there were more important things. “Do you...I mean, do you live somewhere, do you have somewhere you call home? Or do you more wander?”