Success! Satisfaction ripples through her features, a glimpse of conceit stark along her white-edged face. Lashes sweep together, lips twisting in a petty bow of her arrogance; she hopes they're jealous of her, all the idiots who answered no, but she can't allow herself to be too distracted. (It's not their fault they're d u m b, after all. They weren't gifted with a superior intellect.)

Lilómiel chirrs at her shoulder, the wiggle of his claws against her withers a sarcastic remark without words. Dark irises roll in conjunction to a flip of her tail, and she twists her head to turn a baleful eye towards him—his dried-blood red gaze meets hers in turn, a flimsy screen of delightfully dour emotion overlying his deeper-rooted loathing. Reluctantly, with the slightest pang of guilt, Nymeria lets her mind return to a state of confidence, and with it Lilómiel's quiet support in her endeavours. Conceit wouldn't do her any favors, not here. Not to mention she didn't need to make enemies out of the blue.

The grullo's attention shifts back to the wolf, eyes wandering over the silver fur once again. The undulating sound of the riddler's howl echoes in her ears, a lyrical composure she marvels at; what magnificence. Jealousy pangs within her chest, a sharp blade rubbing hard against the strings of her heart. Some weirdly feral part of her wishes she could mimic that cry...

Or maybe it was just Lilómiel's hunger, his predatory desires slinking into her head.

As the mists shift and fall away, reform, the hard-jawed filly lifts her head, observing each change, each formation, of the letters with utmost care. Over and over she reads the riddle, as many times as she needs to to let the possibilities sink in; and then she allows her mind to rove, searching for answers. As she does so, taking her careful time to make sure no avenue is left unchecked, others step forward, murmuring their answers triumphantly. Each one thinks they are successful, in making the longest words possible; but then someone else steps forward, and climbs up a letter or two higher. Some favor sticking directly to the letters given; others take only an 'e'.

Nymera scowls, her brows knitting together fiercely as she ponders the problem.
And then, at last, she finds the loophole.

What is the longest word you can create using these letters. The only rule is that the one in the middle must be in the word. Quote on quote. A triumphant smile scrawls over her lips, a flicker of bright-hearted emotion. On her shoulders, Lilómiel gives a chirp of hearty amusement, sitting up on his haunches. Some remnant of pride flickers through their joint bond.

The wolf had never said it had to be a real word. In fact, it was as if she had practically encouraged cheating—like, seriously, create a word?!

"Hieilcygrngeltoen," Nymeria says primly, hiding away her smirk. It was a mouthful, yeah, and she was kinda sorta taking a risk—but whatever. She had used every single letter, and, in fact, her word was longer than everyone else's. "You never said it had to be a real word... so, hieilcygrngeltoen."

Suck on that!

Pick off my petals

and make my heat explode 'cause I've been saving all my summers for you