They are one.

Two bodies with one mind. One soul in two sparrowlike chests. For nigh on a year, they had shared a womb, curled up like kittens in the warm moisture of their home, pushed into the world together, inhaling their first breath of the same air. Nymeria received the lion's share of nature's gifts - magic, a dragon given to her right after birth, utter devotion from her brother - whereas Volterra was left to rue the queer quirk of fate that left him as second best. He is jealous, yes, but he does not resent her. How could he? He adores her, perhaps far more than should be strictly healthy. He loves Ma, of course, and has a passing interest in the shadowy memory of their sire, but each of these relationships pale in comparison to that which he shares with his sibling.

Which is why, more than once, he's contemplated 'accidentally' trampling the black egg that's so precious to his twin. Because he loathes the idea of sharing her with another, especially in such an intimate way as his father was bonded to the green dragon, and Ma is bonded to her Mongrel. She is his, and infantile anger burns through him at the idea of her being taken away from him.

After the meeting with Auriel, he had begun to wander the snowy wasteland back to Ma and Nymeria. He hadn't been particularly hasty about it, though, dragging furry fetlocks reluctantly and petulantly across the snow, putting off the moment he would return to a scolding for disappearing. Of course, Confutatis would probably be secretly proud of her son for his sense of adventure, but that doesn't make her teeth hurt any less when they snap onto slender flanks in punishment, nor does it ease the sting of her corrosive magic against tender flesh. So he is taking as long as possible, enjoying his freedom while he can, although he hates being away from Nymeria for so long - that and that alone makes him contemplate moving a tad faster.

As it is, he doesn't need to. He sees her in the distance - a blur to the untrained eye, but his eyes have long since developed to seek out her grullo frame no matter the miles between them - and loses no time in releasing a joyous whinny, tufty tail slapping his thighs as he breaks into a gangly gallop. The compacted snow is slippy beneath his feet, and he slaloms towards her with hardly any control - he scrabbles and digs his hooves into the hard moisture to gain enough purchase to propel him after his twin. "Races!" he squeals joyously, ears blown slick against his head with how fast he likes to think he's going. That is, until his fawnlike legs strike a particularly deep snowdrift, and he's sent head over heels into a crumpled, undignified heap with a loud oof. He ends up sat on his bottom, limbs twisted and tangled and a look of dazed delight on his young features as he gazes adoringly after his sister.