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His snarl softened to a growl, and his angry red orbs shifted to dark yellow. He tilted his snaked skull and sniffed at the air. Nathair snorted a deep huff when he no doubt smelt nothing, as her baby was scentless.

It hadn’t taken Lindi long to learn that his orbs could change from their natural orange hue to a variety of colours, depending on his emotions.

Red signalled anger or bloodlust, and dark yellow likely conveyed curiosity.

She had yet to see any other colours, especially as he’d always warded her away in the past.

It was difficult to remain at the side of someone who tried everything in their power to claw, bite, or envenom her. She’d also been causing him distress by doing so, and she’d drawn away for his comfort more than her safety.

When it had been long enough, Lindi materialised her physical body, allowing her worn boots to touch the wet grass. Nathair lowered on his arms and gave a deep growl, but she held firm.

That was, until the child on her shoulder attempted to leap forward with their own snarl.

Lindi, already prepared, caught them in the air before they could get far.

They barked at him while snapping their strange maw of teeth, and Lindi was forced to hold their rabid, wriggling form out from her torso, so they didn’t accidentally bite her.

They were warning Nathair, and he, funnily enough, reared back in surprise.

All sounds halted from him, and his head tilted to the side as though he was perplexed by the tiny creature before him.

Then, with his orbs still yellow and non-threatening, he leaned forward while ducking low.

He sniffed the air about a foot from them, reared back with a snorted huff, and then came even closer.

Lindi was ready to turn them both intangible at the first sign of danger, but it never came. He kept sniffing, kept snorting, until he eventually touched them, and incidentally, the backs of her fingers while he investigated.

Don’t you dare attack, she mentally warned him, although she had this motherly intuition that he just... wouldn’t.

Instead, Nathair dropped even lower to get a good look at them, his head moving this way and that.

Even though they were still growling, he didn’t seem to mind, like he could sense they were defenceless.

They tried biting his skull, but couldn’t get purchase no matter how wide they pried open their little mouth.

Lindi held her arms out until her muscles shook with exertion and threatened to collapse from holding their light weight, but she held on for as long as she could.

This was the first time she’d been this close to Nathair since he’d formed his hooked ram horns, and it was also the calmest he’d ever been.

Even with his lack of intelligence, perhaps... somewhere, deep down inside that thick skull of his, he knew this was his sibling. She hoped there was that kind of spiritual bond, even if they never recognised it for what it was. Or maybe he liked that they were scentless and unassuming.

Only when Nathair finally inspected Lindi, sniffing at her arms before going around to almost inhale her big curls, did she bring her baby to her chest. They clung to her before going up to get between herself and Nathair while pushing at his bumpy closed maw.

They swatted at his face with an upset mewl, and she huffed out a giggle at their possessiveness.

Not far from Nathair’s lake rested a tree with three decently large boulders underneath it.

Lindi sat underneath its shade with her butt firmly resting on a boulder and her back against the trunk, watching Nathair laze upon the ground.

With his little sibling crawling all over him, Nathair was quick to catch them before they could fall into the lake.

He was fine letting them roam the area – as was Lindi.

A small handful of weeks had passed since she’d first come to visit Nathair, and she’d grown comfortable in his presence, as had her baby. They never strayed too far, often scampering between her and Nathair, obsessed with cuddling her and playing with him.

As much as Lindi wanted to join in on their fun, Nathair wasn’t... exceptionally welcoming towards her. In a cold corner of her heart, she knew her presence was merely being tolerated due to her encouraging their siblingship.

She had a feeling it was because of Nathair’s interest and curiosity that he was fond of her baby.

Now that they were used to him, and less aggressive and protective of her, they just enjoyed the active freedom.

They were curious as well, sniffing anything that they could crawl to, so much more alert than when they’d been clinging to her.

They were still wary about Nathair coming too close to her, often giving a cute little growl of disquiet. Their protectiveness could’ve also been the reason Nathair was convinced she was acceptable. They trusted her, so he was choosing to have faith in their trust.

Honestly, she’d take anything she could get.

It was enjoyable being able to witness them together while just being near Nathair again – no matter that he was so different from before. Her sweet little serpent child was no longer either of those things. He was big, he was cautious and standoffish, but he was just as beautiful as before.

She spoke to him often, filling the area with the sound of her voice, although she never expected any kind of response.

Since it was unsafe to sleep at night in the Veil, she often greeted Nathair with a ‘good morning’ after sleeping through most of the day. In the middle of stretching one day, she swore she almost broke something in her spine from stiffening in surprise when he mimicked her greeting.

He’d spoken! Used his own words to say something, and she almost fell over in disbelief. Sure, it sounded like he’d tried to talk with a throat full of gravel, more beastly and monstrous than truly coherent, but she didn’t mind learning his inflection.

Since then, she’d been attempting to teach him how to communicate, and it was part of the reason she refused to leave despite the weeks passing.

He was slow to learn, as he didn’t appreciate her nearness, but it was.

.. something. So, in the background as they gently played – which was really just Nathair chasing his sibling over his body with his big hands or tail tip – she taught him things by pointing to them and stating what they were over and over.

He was listening, even if it didn’t seem like it. His orbs would spark with dark yellow, and his snout would drift towards her before becoming distracted.

Lindi knew what her task was. She was supposed to be growing this new child so they could go off into the world and be a violent menace.

She’d originally come here to make sure Nathair wasn’t in danger within the Veil, and perhaps even cunningly convince him to follow her out of it for his own safety. If he wouldn’t, she’d had every intention of leaving, as she figured that’s what he’d want.

What she hadn’t been prepared for was how fervently he’d protect what he’d taken as his territory.

This waterfall, the lake, and the immediate cliff around it was his home.

He often swam in the water, and it was much deeper than it appeared.

Lindi couldn’t swim in it long before irritating him, as if the lake was his most precious haven.

No amount of encouragement on her part could get him to leave, and she’d given up. But with how warmly he’d accepted his sibling, Lindi had chosen to stay just for a little while longer.

She missed Nathair, even if he was all snarls and maw snaps.

Participating in his life, even if it was just for a moment, nibbled away at the loneliness that had been burning her chest. Being able to be the one to teach him, as a mother should, gave her a purpose she hadn’t even realised she’d needed.

Educating Nathair could only be helpful, as he could teach the others in the future.

He could be the starting point. If they all accepted each other like this, then they could all help each other. Lindi wanted to nurture that possibility and let Nathair be the leader for them all.

With how long his body had gotten, she thought he might be big enough to keep them all in line.

That serpent nature of his, patient, calm, even-tempered except to defend, may be what made him so tolerant of her.

If others in the future were less so, they could lean on him instead, with Lindi paving that path now for them all.

She constantly worried about the future. It was undecided, so uncertain, and growing more dangerous with every new Demon that crossed the threshold.

Lindi would set down foundations everywhere, hoping in the many decades to come that one of them would stand up like a tall building – even if others failed and came crumbling down.

She’d been floundering for so long, her heart rejecting all this. But she’d finally decided to take action, even if it was merely pointing to the ground to explain to Nathair what grass was.

All the while, she tried to stem her triumphant grins whenever he looked at whatever she was pointing at, then opened and closed his mouth as if to silently mimic her.