Friend.
Lilómiel's thought did not sit right in Nym's mind. It was frivolous and out-of-place, a mention that perturbed her more than it piqued her curiosity. Her bonded might've meant something different, like 'stranger', but it was always difficult to tell with him. The definition of his words didn't necessarily line up with what he meant, and this doublethink had become a regular form of deception when he wished to keep his thoughts private. Nym understood this (and in fact participated in it herself)... but he wouldn't—shouldn't—be acting out in such an erratic manner. Lil didn't say friend; the two of them knew she did not have friends. Volterra was family, and she maintained a couple acquaintances verging on more-than-acquaintances—but she was solitary in nature, and solitary by will. Friends did not belong in the equation of Nymeria-and-Lilómiel.

The trees groaned, their leaves crackling and hissing in the Orangemoon wind. Nymeria flared her nostrils indecisively as her line of sight flickered between tree trunks and long shadows. Friend, Lil repeated insistently, wings rustling and snapping. With a soft thump, he took off into flight, flitting through the Deep.

Wait, Nymeria snapped mentally, but the black neither slowed nor looked back. She longed to sigh, to let heave a great and vast exhale of breath—instead she lengthened her step from walk to trot. The daughter of the World Eater was careful to keep an eye ahead of her; she didn't entirely trust Lilómiel's intentions. They had grown closer, yes, but with their maturation their twisted bond had convoluted and knotted ever further. He might be incapable of deceiving her, but she wouldn't put it past him to scheme and hope nonetheless. We are, she thought with a tinge of amusement, too alike for our own good.

And she kept an eye out for... the "friend", whatever that meant.

There was a snap of massive wings, a flash and glitter of bronze weaving between shafts of shadow. Lilómiel, ten or fifteen meters ahead, let out a cheerful trill of greeting. Nymeria's teeth locked together in corpselike fashion. No—and she snapped off Lil's song abruptly. The silence left in its wake was gaping and wide and impenetrable, filled only by the rustle of brittle leaves and the low groan of tree trunks. Her heart rate accelerated, her ears pivoted forwards, her eyes narrowed, and her movements liquified. When she walked now, she absorbed every vibration of the ground. While impeded by moving at snail's pace, as a result she was almost soundless (and hopefully undetectable.)

Go, she commanded.

Lilómiel began to sing again, detouring away from Nymeria to act as a lure. Now, Nymeria's stealth was not a matter of fear so much as curiosity and arrogance; the black would not greet a true stranger without her explicit permission. There was someone she knew—and knew well—hidden in the trees. It would've been easy to peer through Lil's mind and find out who he had greeted in such a way, but she would rather have a bit of a surprise.

(In all honesty, she expected it to be Volterra anyways.)

Nymeria, little more than a flash of movement here and there, peered out from between the thick press of trees. There was stallion-smell, the buoyant reek of sweat and fleshy heat—she caught sight of a rump, but it sparked no imminent memories. Forward she crept...

She saw.

"Argen!" The grullo cried, bursting from her cover towards the familiar face. "Oh, Argen! Where have you been?!"