Nyxa

She hadn’t meant to keep him waiting for so long.

After years of being hopelessly left to her own devices, the semblance of a steady friendship in Hod is something Nyxa has come to cling to. In her heart, he’s closer to a brother than the ones she was born with and so, struggling to fight her way through the clutter of new-season bracken, she finally comes across him with breathless excitement. “Hod!” She calls out, though she knows he’s already heard her from a mile away.

Turns out he was less than inept as others assumed him to be. Hod’s senses were heightened, in fact, from the loss of his normal vision. It made it simple for her to understand his nature because she too had the ability to enhance her god-given senses by simply shifting those parts to wolf. In their time together on the Island, they’d already discovered countless hidden things no one else could smell out or hear.

“Time got away from me.” She explains, the slight curve of her feminine mouth tilting into an abashed grin. Swimming, of course, but she won’t have to explain that to Hod. He knows her; they know each other.

This is exactly why she tries so hard to refrain from reaching out to touch his pale skin, or to smell the comforting presence of his musk, usually buried beneath his thick, dark mane. If she does these things - if she clings to him with hope that together they might be something more - there would always be the chance of rejection.

Nyxa can’t begin to fathom it; already the pain of such an ordeal pierces her heart with worry so she brushes it aside with the flick of her evergreen tail. She and Hod were friends, just friends, and she liked it that way. “The tide is out, though. You ready to go?” She breathes, unable to reign in the obvious elation at their pre-planned adventure.

Wayward daughter of Canaan and Circinae

Nyxa

She was nothing like a sea lion and he knew it. Those fat bullies lounged all day along the best stretches of beach and were thinning out the sleek, silver fish along Ischia’s shoreline. “I resent that…” tugged at her lips, but the words fell short as soon as his pale mouth caught hold of her vibrant mane. Hod had a way with himself that was unlike anyone else Nyxa had ever known. A gentler sort of manner; patient and yet, confident. It stilled her restless legs and eased her into a similar mood, there was no sense in jumping about while he readied himself. “Let’s head out.” He tells her, and the accompanying touch upon her shoulder stills whatever residual skepticism she might have been harboring.

This was Hod, after all. “Still no sign of Bragi?” She questions as they turn to leave. With every day that dawns and sets she knows that her companion has held out hope for his elder brother’s return. The pain he feels is one the seamare can empathize with. How often had she waited for Circinae’s return, or Canaan’s attention? To this day she’s still not seen her middle brother and now … now her entire family has seemed to vanish. This question is more often becoming a mantra, rather than a hopeful gesture. 

“I’ve been looking for him, on my visits to the mainland.” Nyxa supplies, falling silent afterwards until only the sound of their hollow steps can be heard. Hod himself seems lost in thought and for a moment, it unnerves her again. “Am I nagging him?” She frets while one, newly spotted ear tilts lazily aside. “Why am I even worried about if I’m nagging him or not?” Follows suit. The brush of hardy salt growth against her fetlocks fades to nothing, instead it gives way to shifting sand and then, a springy, water-soaked sandbar. In the near horizon she can see the smaller island, but her worried eyes are flicking back to where Hod travels beside her.

He’s changed. It still amazes her just how much, though - and in such a brief time! One winter’s worth of thick coats and healthy forage and suddenly, he’s a stallion. It’s hard for her not to stare. They’re not of matching height (Nyxa still has time before her body will settle into its predestined design) and yet, he’s not grown overly tall. No; Hod has grown thick in the chest and haunches, the crest of his dark neck was full and artfully sculpted. Spanish blood, ancestors worth of good breeding.

She suddenly feels her age. Acutely.

“Do you ever think about going back to the Riverlands, to look for him?” She ponders aloud, all the while her mind is running wild with thoughts of how he must be growing tired of constantly being her babysitter. Certainly Hod was a man, was he not? (He was, oh he was) And certainly men had needs, did they not? She’d seen it herself - the result of such a thing growing round and full in her stepdam’s belly. With the bashful tilt of her head, Nyxa returns her attention to the small tidepools beneath them and the ripple of sand, trying hard to ignore the heat in her cheeks.

Wayward daughter of Canaan and Circinae

Nyxa

“Because the answer to the second question is No.” Nyxa thought ashamedly when the paling stallion stops abruptly. Hod’s initial shock at her searching for Bragi was expected, but she misplaces his concern for her leaving without notice as a ‘this isn’t your battle’ sort of expression.

It wasn’t, anyways. Bragi was not her brother, Crevan and Corvus were and neither of them had either reason to claim her as blood. She can’t atone for her mother’s failings (perhaps they find her guilty regardless) and she’d never ask for anyone else to take up her mantle of finding them again. It wasn’t as if Hod had come to her saying, “I’ve been looking around for Jah-Lilah, while you’re away.”

She felt her guilty conscious grow heavy with regret. Her hooves are working upwards now, crossing over one another to keep her balance as they amble up the inclining shore and the pressure of her worry nearly reaches a boiling point until Hod breaks her from the strange sort of spell. His neck, which had cradled her through long nights and offered distraction on balmy days, drapes across her own to pull her soundly to him. Nyxa, though feeling a jolt of unexpected pleasure at the sudden intensity, doesn’t resist the enveloping warmth of his embrace and chooses instead to seek comfort from it.

They’d both lost people they loved, people they had depended on. That reminder and Hod’s reassuring pressure beside her are all Nyxa needs in order to see just how important their relationship truly was. “Painfully optimistic, but you’re right.” She relents as he pulls away. “Thanks Hod.” The growing mare chimes, her characteristic smile shyly forming over tawny lips. If it was anyone to right her sour mood, it would be Him.

She’d been silly to be so unsure. He cared for her as he always did and though they never spoke of things like love, it was an understood affection. She could love the sea, so certainly she could love Hod. Loving things were all fine and well, there was certainly no difference here. “Certainly none.” The tan mare thinks, her flashing purple eyes roaming unabashedly over his striking face.

“Tell me more about this spice you were catching a hint of.” Nyxa chirps, stretching her nose out to place it firmly against his shoulder. To seek it out she’ll need help and this requires leaning on the crutch of her shifting abilities. Against his shoulder her nose transforms from soft to pointed and eerily wet, her body following to suit. It was still an arduous process, one she was becoming more familiar with. Like trying to piece together a puzzle that you shake up after every turn.

Circinae had often told her to rely on muscle memory for the action. To feel every hair grow, every bone shift or shape. The more she came to recognize these sensations, the easier and quicker her shifts would become. Finishing up, giving a hearty shake of her coat, and ending with,“I’m hoping it’s edible.” The vermilion she-wolf barks, all earlier thoughts of melancholy channeled into food.

Wayward daughter of Canaan and Circinae

Nyxa

Getting soaked as a wolf was a whole world away from gliding under the water with her wings.

She detested the way it clung to every fibre of her coat and drug her down, and how even a light splashing would turn the earthy musk of her smell to common wet dog. Her face sours at his threat (she knows he won’t do it, though he could) but Hod aptly gives her no time for response. He knows her tongue better than most.

Instead he trudges on, determined as ever and hardly put off by the unfamiliar ground. Nyxa knows to step aside, to weave inconspicuously through the brush herself and only intervene when he’s reached an impasse. The two work well in tandem; months of living in each other’s presence has given them a rhythmic flow - Hod ahead, Nyxa aside until a tendril caught him fast and then she would leap in to gnaw it free, then the tempo would continue.

They journey like this for some time, Hod taking a moment’s respite to describe the odd smell. “Like sassafras? Could be bayleaf …” Her thoughts wander, the prick of a memory sparking floral, cinnamon tones on her tongue with the hint of an evergreen tang to her nose. Her dam had brought them home, once, for her to meander over and taste but Nyxa hasn’t forgotten the morsels. The fact that they might be growing on this island tugs at her heartstrings; had Circinae planted some for her to find?

Unaware that they’d both been walking in silent contemplation, Hod’s sudden diversion from their deertrail startles her into a stop. You smell that? He asks, producing a sigh from the narrow chest of his traveling companion. Reluctantly her dark nose tips up, the faint quiver of her nostrils alerting her to what Hod had found. “Shew!” The little wolf thought, quick to wrinkle her snout. “It’s a skunk, Hod - don’t go over there!” She grumbles aloud.

Hod was Hod, though, and just like the very first day they’d met in the meadow he chooses to barge ahead in fulfillment of his own interests. With a gasp that turns her ears aside and her mood black, Nyxa mutters darkly before leaping forward to catch up with his quickly disappearing form. “If that thing sprays you I’m leaving you here, alone, tonight!” She nags from behind, plodding through the jurassic ferns to pause at his side, head tilted up to look at him with narrowed eyes.

She’s about to snap at him until he interrupts her. What did we find, Nyx? What’s it look like?

With another childish huff she turns to look.

“Holy shit.” She starts, edging forward incrementally as if she’s terrified that one might spring to life and grasp her. She’d been so busy and focused on the bayleaf that’d she’d not considered just how overpowering the smell actually was. Not to mention that these bushes were gigantic - ancient strains left to grow tall and unencumbered out in the bright island sun. “They’re weeds.” She laughs, “Smelly weeds! I wonder what they’re doing here? Come on, Hod, there’s nothing but them for about an acre.” Nyxa concludes, trotting ahead to weave in between the stalks.

What purpose could they possibly serve? Her answer comes in the form of a bright parrot, swooping down to perch on a nearby tendril before plucking the felt-like blossom from underneath a five-pointed leaf. “Looks like they’re edible, too. The birds must’ve deposited the seeds and now … well there’s a field full.” The she-wolf chuckles, her nose smarting from the stench of them all.

“Want to try one and tell me what it’s like?” She asks, tilting a charming head up to see the expression on his face.

Wayward daughter of Canaan and Circinae

Nyxa

The affectionate touch of his muzzle against her ruff soothes every wrinkle of attitude right out of her. Hod was like that; the water to her fire, a stone in the earth while she was a breeze in the sky. Nyxa has never once considered if he was less-than or more-than - he’s simply Hod, the one who never left and the one who comforts her during restless nights. A dependable figure where the rest of her world is simply spinning out of control.

It doesn’t even bother her that his teeth have taken to gripping her ear, even that action is unreasonably gentle and so very comforting.

“They seem to love it, actually.” She barks, twisting her furry head around to view the occasional dive bomber as they dipped from tree limb to stalk and back again. Each of the elder parrots had passed the knowledge down to fledgling and so, together, the feathered creatures of this particular island had kept the cycle of nature going. Nyxa admires their tireless work, the way they turn it into squawking play with every swoop of their colorful bodies. She hopes that her and Hod’s arrival hadn’t upset that balance.

Here goes nothing? Hod says, drawing her sharp eyes back to where he’s lipped one fat, fuzzy bud between his teeth and Nyxa watches the slow progression of his jaw as it works. I think it’s ok, He says after a moment's deliberation, giving Nyxa reason to spread her lips in a toothy grin as her tail began to thwap noisily at her sides. That was it, then - all the proof she needed.

His nudge against her shoulder along with the goading serves to heighten her excitement so Nyxa hardly has to struggle in order to switch her skins. It was easier for her to remember “Horse”; without her mother there to cement the ancient respect of her gift, it was becoming less of a trick and more of a chore. Besides, underneath the waves she had no need for a furry, canine body.

She had all she needed and more in this shape.

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” The yearling squeals, plunging a petite nose into the thicket of a row so that she can engorge herself. Nyxa has always had very little in the way of manners but this go-’round, she works especially hard to forget every bit of decorum she’d ever been taught. There’s only the muffled sound of her teeth grinding for a moment, and then she pulls free to grin in Hod’s direction - cheeks stuffed to the brim like a chipmunk.

“Derrishish!” She mumbles, giggling loudly with the action. It was nonsensical for them to be here, eating unknown plants and wasting the day away while so much turmoil was going on around them, but Hod was the only escape she knew aside from the sea. He was a master at making her forget, even if it was only for an afternoon. “I agree though - the initial ‘fuzziness’ is a bit off-putting but the rest of it, not so bad.” Nyxa confirms.

For a second time she dives in, quick to strike in the spot where Hod has gone to collect leaflets. Her intention had been to steal the goods from underneath his nose but when she does so, the curve of her cheek and the soft part of her lips presses against his own. It’s nothing, really; just two friends battling for some tasty snacks, yet when they connect the jolt of electricity courses through her veins and leaves her to pull away with almost shy reserve.

“Sorry.” She murmurs, glad for once that he can’t see her expression. “I’m getting full, though. These were a nice surprise.” The flustered girl says, shifting around on restless feet. Her mind races, searching for anything to distract her from what she’s feeling and briefly her ears turn back in worry. It’s then that Nyxa hears the roar of water - faint, like a dream, but still there. A gentle turn of her gold-tinged face and then she’s pinpointed it.

“I hear water … maybe a waterfall?” She says, hoping that Hod will confirm her thoughts. This island seemed to be stock full of hidden secrets. “Should we find it? Maybe go for a swim?” The cream-and-evergreen girl suggests, just the hint of a whine in her tone. “Pleeaasseee?”

He can’t say no - he won’t. He’ll indulge her and she’ll keep him safe, it’s just how things are. A smile overtakes her, she feels the beginnings of a tingle in her gut, and then her mouth is against his neck and her teeth are tugging on the dark, familiar strands of his thick mane.

Wayward daughter of Canaan and Circinae