It was not an instantaneous change, but her internal clock (forever ticking on its countdown to zero) knew that it should not be nighttime already. (Even nighttime was a generous description for the state of the sky—there were no moon or stars but instead a gray oblivion shrouded by a rich and black pattern of leaves.) The trees grew taller and taller as she penetrated the deep forest, until their quivering branches scraped the sky; in this forest even her brother would be dwarfed.

Despite the eldritch atmosphere, she wandered without concern for her well-being. She was, along with the many others, drawn towards the elusive promise of power in friendship.

Lilómiel hissed, his tongue clicking in disapproval as they encroached on the swell of bodies surrounding the water. Her eye was drawn not towards the others (although she subconsciously charts them: compact pony, grandiose warrior, paint, Kid, unicorn, etc, etc) but towards their focus. Anyone accustomed to the ways of Helovian rites would know what such a gathering would indicate: that is to say a prize. And greedy like all the rest, Nymeria drifts forward hungrily, jostling amongst the others to stay her gaze upon the egg.

No.

Her dragon’s dismay is palpable; he flutters his wings in anxious repose, beating his feathered tail against her broad back. For a moment she considers his argument. Then she shakes her head and snorts softly, quashing his concerns without a care. She knew how he felt—she knew because they were tied intimately in heart and soul—but she also knew that having four eyes watching her back was better than two. After the incident with Abraham (overpowered, outnumbered, outgunned) she understood the benefits that could be reaped by a second splitting of herself… if she could take it.

(Nymeria thought she could. But didn’t everyone?)

Although her apprentice practically demands her attention, she decides that in this matter he will be alone with his judgement. This was not a gathering of goodwill; it was a competition. Whatever façade the competitors wore mattered not: in the end, they all hungered for the same prize. This was not her first rodeo—but with any luck, it’d be her last.

The rest of them (many, if perhaps not all) lower their heads to nibble at the nuts scattered upon the soil. She glances at them, idly curious, before refusing to participate in dinner. Rather than eat, she turns herself back towards the fish cloaked beneath the water’s veil. It was true that these… things often called for strange actions, but she doubted the wisdom of eating what she hadn’t eaten before just because others were.

She waits.