There was another dragon.
Lilómiel noticed the male first; it was hard to un-notice him after. The sun glazed the dragon’s bronze scales in a halo of flame, painting him as a portrait of royal majesty. It made him appear both bigger and older than he was. Hubris’ appearance was not the end of the world for Nym—she was well accustomed to dragons, and she hadn’t yet felt the touch of dragon flame on her own skin—but it did strike Lilómiel’s nerves. If big, be big, he said sharply; Nym shrugged in answer. If all horses had equally powerful companions, she’d have a gold drake, not a black.

Still, he had a point. It was possible the equine companion of the royal was on foot nearby—in which case, she needed to prepare herself. For what? Well… that was the tricky part. She hadn’t done this bit before, and she supposed she would just have to fumble her way through the best she could.

You should go greet him, Nymeria thought.
Lilómiel chirped skeptically in answer, and didn’t bother otherwise with a response. With a snap of leathery wings, he banked downwards, circling in to land upon her withers. His fear—or worry, rather—left a sour taste in Nym’s mouth.

A wind pressed itself against her body, slithering down her curves and leaving a chill on her skin. Nymeria looked upwards again to see churning, mismatched wings blocking out the cerulean sky; she hastily backed away, clearing a space for the pegasus (or so she presumed) to land. Lilómiel chirped again, vocalizing approval. She good land.

As if it’s difficult.

Nymeria blinked, eyes flickering over the stranger’s body. It was difficult not to stare—it was one of the first times she had seen a hybrid, and this hybrid was a particularly difficult one to take in. The mare was colossal, all thick ribs and sloping hips and well-shaped (re: undeniably beautiful) bones. Her presence alone, overpowering in its greatness, took Nymeria’s breath away—and her markings. There was something very similar about the rigid white patterns over the mare’s skull, a more artistic representation of Nymeria’s own heritage.

It shook her.
You’re not the only one… so Ophelia had said. Had she been talking about this woman?

The sound of the mare’s voice jarred her back into her senses. Nymeria’s smile automatically flipped into place, a faintly incredulous curve of lips; Lilómiel trilled, his sing-song cadence punctuating Isopia’s question mark. His attention was not so much on the other mare as the other dragon, however—the royal, young and irresistible, offered a tempting opportunity.  The black fanned his wings, jaws parting to let loose a small gout of flame.
Show-off.

“I was hoping to talk to someone about joining the Herd, if it’s possible,” Nymeria answered, unconsciously mimicking the cadence of Isopia’s voice.