Night fell as abruptly as a curtain over a stage, a woolly skein of shadow stretching over the sky's blue bones. Nymeria neither reveled nor detested it—this—as the darkness had never posed a threat to her. It was just a different way of being, one where individuals were smudged into anonymity, made into something dark and shaded like charcoal on black paper. Or, if the moon was out and the world was washed in monochrome lighting, things’ own sense of seeming was distorted under the watercolor rags of silver and gray. It changed even the intimate and the familiar into peculiarities, exotics and foreign dignitaries from a far-off world—and what wasn’t exciting about that?

It was an adventure without danger, after all, a dream dressed as a nightmare.

Her weight shifts, bones creaking softly. The cracks and pops are loud, like a roll of thunder, in the prominent quiet, as are her hooves’ whisper on grass and her breathing’s susurrus, muted rasps. Vivacious eyes focus ahead, caution welded to her streamlined figure as she wanders through the trees. The dew-licked branches brush over her iron flanks, melt off her hips and shoulders, a trembling of cool and nervous fingers on hot and unexplored flesh.

The grullo snorts at Lilomiel’s peevish imaginings, his perverted attempts to unsettle her not going unnoticed. However cautious he thought he was being, he was wrong. The absence of his thoughts’ pressure in way of a more fickle approach was more obvious than his bullying ways.

Lil unslings thick jaws, popping the hefty joints, and his tail whips in caustic dismissal. With a distinct force of will, Nymeria reins in her longing to give him a sharp prod in the head, or maybe buck him off her haunches. It wouldn’t do to be cruel. That was what monsters did, not ladies.

… Punishments and dominance and a social hierarchy are what wolves make of the world.

Memories flicker back to the first moment where she had bent her will upon her black dragon: her utter assertion over him, the stab of fear which had split straight through her skull all the way from Lilómiel’s side of the bond, the way his relentless aggression had tapered off and died under the threat of her punishment.

Her sickening, leery pleasure to force him to obey.

A branch snaps against her face and they’re out of the trees, into the center of the grove. Under the chill of the autumn night sky gooseflesh raises on her skin.

Mother always said I was a wolf.

No.
She was just a girl.
Even the kindest of victims got tired of incessant cruelty eventually.

Nymeria & Lilómiel

All you have is your fire,
And the place you need to reach
Don't you ever tame your demons,
But always keep 'em on a leash...