When she had failed many times in the past to receive companionship, for once, the tables flipped themselves over to show a weak underbelly where she was given the upper hand. Her fear of the wolf paid off in the end.
"Thank you." was all that she could whisper out in thanks towards the wolf.
It came a symbol of purity, of a new life that she could lavish in her love and affection, someone who she could easily share herself with without repercussions. She took it with the idea of offering everything that the youth might need in life, watching with nervous eyes and weak heart as the fog faded and the group dispersed.
Once it was brought down to the earth to be cradled, velvet muzzle brushing into the shell with gentle caresses, she waited in curiosity. Did they all rise from eggs? How long would it before she was greeted by whatever hide itself away within?
Dawn's cool light crept over the mountains into a higher throne in the sky. Impatience ate her insides as if she had swallowed a parasite.
Crack.
Fear settles into her bones again, but a different type of fear, one that strikes a pange of worry and a tense, tight grip that squeezes the very life from her heart. While she is sure she is fairly immune to the basics of heartbreak, the sound hits a special key on her piano of emotions.
She checks for the egg, nosing about in the cracked masses of the previous shell, lost in a desperate search for whatever she could find.
Nothing.
Urged by panic, her horned skull swings, pale light cascading across the withering grass and bleeding into the remaining natural fog. "Where are you?!" A whimper, a lone pitiful noise that is perfectly designed to bring about attention and love, fills her ears.
They greet each other for the first time with confusion, Sikeax blinking with tired eyes, Hobgoblin lost in the new, dim world that he found himself expelled into. Another cry escapes the lips of the pup, coloured in a deep earthen brown. The question of if she has received the same sort of companion as Amara cross the hybrid's mind, but in an instant, that all fades away.
Whatever it is that happens to her companion, the small boy who rests near his soon-to-be mother and later on sister, literally gives away the appearance he wears and switches away for another. A snort fires from the mare's nostrils, sending dust over the child.
"What even are you?"
Only cries answer her question.

OOC: Hatching for Hobgoblin.
I kind of bullshitted my way through this to get the thread up for obvious reasons.
Anyone is free to reply.

Hobgoblin is a Timber Wolf pup at the start, and morphs into a Meerkat pup.
"Sikeax Talk"

Cries fill the early morning air, striking out endlessly for something, nurishment, mostly likely. She has no idea as of what to offer him. She is not made to hunt mice to push into a young belly, insects(should they meet his fancy) were too small to capture, and there was no milk from her teats to offer him. Natural instinct would have to set in.
How was she to raise a child with Amara if she couldn't take care of the one in front of her?
Nervously, she presses her muzzle into his small body, blowing a slow gust of warm breath into him, nickering softly. Adrixaura had done the same for her when she was born, and it couldn't hurt to do the same for him.
Something fresh strikes her chest, a new feeling that she's never felt before. Motherly love? True love and solid trust in someone she'd just met? Whatever it was, it was unique, giving her a short high.
"Hello, little one."
He doesn't reply to her, find solace in a black kitten. A thin smile spreads over her face as the earth vibrates against her lowered belly, dying off at the speed of light. Fear collects in her chest though she herself is not scared(or at least admitting to it).
Pale, soft eyes meet a giant, a beast of war stories she would never know nor want to know, someone built to reign like a warlord. That fear finds it's reason.
Whoever they are, a few steps back are given as if to offer space, watched over with the stern, protective stance that a mother uses when she is ready to kill and die for her child. Hobgoblin's young, dark coat pushes into her chest, searching for warmth and attention. Low mews pour from his mouth.
A moment is spared to check on the babe, now deemed changeling.
"I guess so. All I was given was an egg. He's, or at least I believe it's a male, came out."
It seemed a rather odd explanation, but what more should she use to define him? His entrance to the world was expected, yet what he came out to be wasn't exactly what had been expected.
What even had she thought would come out of an egg offered by a wolf in the fog?
"He needs a name." But what to give?

OOC: Oh, it's fine! I don't mind at all. <3
Sorry for such a wait on my end, school has been keeping me busy and tired. xc
Last form is a black Serval.
@[Drake]
"Sikeax Talk"