She has been patient, waiting for when it would make sense to approach him.
She watched him and his brood come to their home and she had sat patiently tucked behind her father, peering out at the man of bone and blood, keeping the secret tucked deep into her heart. She remembers what it had been like when she had first seen him, when she had first found him curled on the ground, when she had tucked in next to him and promised that she would keep their friendship a secret.
And she has.
Even when her heart started hammering in her throat, even when she wanted to cry out and run to him when he ushered the rest of his family across the border and when she heard that he was coming to stay. (At least for a while, she knew. She didn’t know everything, but she knew enough to recognize that this was not an entirely friendly visit.) Still, she kept such thoughts to herself. Stayed quiet, pressing her smiling face into her younger sister’s neck—not explaining when she began giggling softly.
But this time, he is alone, and so is she.
She’s older now, crossing across the path from yearling to nearly two, and it shows. She is still coltish and thin, her body not having filled out yet, but she is not a small girl any longer. She’s taller, her face having elongated into the same lovely lines as her mother, her eyes wide and expressive. Those same eyes blink down at him now, sage green and serpentine and awash with mischief and play as she smiles.
The sun illuminates her from behind, causing her mahogany scales to gleam as her fanged mouth curves up into a smile. “Don’t tell me you came all this way for a nap.” She shuffles, touched by just a slight hint of self consciousness before she straightens, taking a deep breath and watching him quietly.
howl at the half moon, radio queen. she's all smoke. she's all nicotine.