Själ

Själ could almost imagine that they were twins.

The pair were nigh inseparable, had been since... after. For the most part, the princess enjoyed Nymeria's company in a way that she had never enjoyed anyone else before; but to a tiny piece of her, it was about more than that. It was about loyalty, protection, camaraderie. It was about kindness and affection, easily given and more easily received. It was about love (though she could not name it as that, having had such little experience with it). It was about friendship and togetherness and all of the things that she had longed for, but never found. Nymeria had become something precious to her, something that she would live or die for.

It was not an obsession, not quite; it was a deep, soul-bending bond that had been irrevocably built that day in the Secret Grove, cemented in the Deep Forest. Despite some instinct within that warned her to run away, not to trust, that she would end up broken and despairing, Själ placed her loyalty in the wolf-mare, her belief in their bond stronger than any doubt. She knew that betrayal was possible, that it was a risk that she placed upon herself -- but that Nymeria would ever jeopardize their friendship was a possibility that she could not even conceive of. It was laughable. Almost.

When the pair found themselves upon the edges of the meadow, the princess flashed a brilliant smile to her partner, hopeful that the wolf-mare's mood would be a pleasant one. "Nym," the girl began brightly, playfully, the blossoming of excitement evident in her shining amber eyes "want to race?" And then, without waiting for an answer, she was off, laughing over her shoulder as she gestured for her friend to follow. It was childish and meaningless, but it was a distraction -- one that, gods willing, Nymeria would partake in as effortlessly as her counterpart.

It wasn't about the race, after all. It was about the freedom of running.

The wind blustered through the girl's mane, weaving and winding it into thicker strands, tangling it into a ratty mess upon her nape. Her eyes roamed the horizon, on the lookout for danger -- always, always watching now, after -- guiding the way to wherever they wanted to go. The princess was gentle and tender for Nymeria, offering a side of herself that no one else would ever see; it was subtle, impossible, perhaps, to discern from the girls' points of view. But we, dear reader, can recognize differences when we see them. And what we see now is a pretty mare trying desperately to provide happiness for the one soul she cares for in this darkened world.

She came upon the hill almost by accident, and realized only just in time that perhaps it would be better for her to stop before she flew right by it. Hers was a sliding stop, the kind of halt that tore up weeds and grasses from the dirt beneath her hooves. She peered up the hill sheepishly at the figure atop it, cocking her head quizzically as she recognized the boy. (Well, at least he wasn't a threat, even if he was a bit full of himself, best she remembered.) Not far from her stopping place stood a girl, not much older than Själ, watching Rikyn in silence with a smile on her face. They almost seemed to be waiting for something, and suddenly curiosity was bubbling at the princess's throat.

"Rikyn," she greeted the boy with a polite nod. And then, joining the duo in their silence, she waited, hoping that Nymeria would have arrived beside her. There was something about the wolf-mare's presence that calmed her, and she didn't want to be in the Meadow with Rikyn and the nameless mare alone.

"Speak."
--Ansgar.--