They were pressed together (shoulder-to-shoulder, eye-to-eye, Nymeria couldn't believe Själ hadn't stepped away)—and Nymeria's thoughts fell and tumbled away from logic and reason. She couldn't help but think how out of character this was of her, this audacity and desire and... desire? No, she thought critically, studying the heat that radiated from her heart. This isn't desire. (Except how could she pass judgement on something she'd never known?)

Her nostrils flare; all she can smell now is the woman beside her, broad-shouldered and strong. Something tremulous buds in her corroded arteries, tandem to flowers blooming in her lungs. (Cut her open, dissect her for study, and she'd be beautiful. But she'd be dead because of flowers being where they don't belong.)

The spider wolf mare delicately shook her head, dislodging the emotions that swelled out-of-control and not where they belonged. Instead she smiled to herself, savouring the moment. For once she was lucky; for once she had a promise of something better to look forward to. (At least that's what she hoped.) Friends, Själ confirmed. What did I start here? What would grow up from that which had been planted between them?

She could take it back, of course. All she would have to do is disappear into the night. Fade away. It was unlikely they would ever cross paths, what with the size of Helovia and Nymeria's crepuscular habits—but Nymeria didn't want to embrace solitude again when she'd just found new family. More than anything she wanted this to work between them, however fragile a beginning this might have.

Lilómiel growled softly then, white teeth flashing in the shadows. What is it? Nym lifted her head—and a cat-bird landed on her friend's haunches. (It was undoubtedly her companion, but Nym had never seen such a strange creature before.) Eyebrows rising a touch, Nym stared at it for a moment longer before refocusing her attention upon Själ and her rough voice.

More who are alone. The grullo blinked, shifted her weight, considered and weighed. It had never occurred to her that there might be others who were in need of family, of acceptance; it had always seemed a burden unique to her. She supposed, thinking about it now, that that was both arrogant and childish of her... and yet Själ offered a surprisingly appetizing course of action, even if unwittingly.

"We could help them," she said softly. "We could... care for them, like we will care for one another. Nobody deserves to be alone." (An echo, a sentiment, sure to stir the same emotions in Själ as it did in her.)

(Would she bite?)