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He found her beautiful. Even though it hadn’t changed in the many years, his appreciation of her continued to evolve and deepen.

Her personality was gallant and charming.

Her care for others – their offspring and other humans alike – inspired him, and it made him inclined to let her have her way, even if it meant he was drained of power and suffered for it.

Her soul was bound to him, and he knew he must nurture whom it belonged to.

I must do better.

But with Lindiwe in this state, unreceptive and reclusive, it was impossible.

She did not want his words, and that was all he currently had to offer. Until their twin offspring were grown, there was little he could do.

And so, he would bear witness, joining in with her suffering, even if she never knew he was there for her should she choose to reach out.

October 2 nd , 1733

Readjusting her newly repaired cloak of black raven feathers, Lindi stepped out from underneath the shade of a tree and into bright sunshine. Spring had fully bloomed in this part of the world, melting away the snow and allowing small yellow weed flowers to sway in the light wind.

It always surprises me that the northern and southern hemispheres differ as to when their seasons happen. She’d just left early autumn in Eyropea, whereas here, in Austrális, the spring was cool and inviting. If I wanted to, I could avoid harsh winters forever.

Then again, she found the cold desolation of white snow could feel rather tender-hearted. The world could be rather cruel in the most heavenly ways.

She hummed in thought as moss cushioned her steps when she sprung over a small river, making her way to two individuals.

One lay on the wet grass, letting his black scales soak up the heat as the sunlight gave them a rainbow shimmer.

The other lay nearby in a small huddle – not close enough to hurt his companion with his quill spines, but his thin tail and tuft swayed against him.

The moment her boot crunched against the crisp grass, they both reared their heads out from their individual cuddles to inspect who came near.

Orson, with his orbs flaring a deeper red, let out a growl. His quills jutted up from his back and limbs as he quickly got to all four paws. He arched, going low to ward her back. Nathair, on the other hand, tilted his head with his orange orbs shifting to dark yellow.

Then he held his scaled hand out in front of an aggressive Orson to halt him.

Nathair was ignored as Orson snapped his fangs at his fingers, silently warning him not to intervene.

Orson tossed his head, presenting his bull horns, and stamped a forepaw in her direction before gouging at the ground as he swiped back with his claws.

Lindi paused as a stinging heartache wrapped itself around her chest. Is he going to charge me?

After the last few terrible months, Lindi just wanted to be greeted warmly by her children for once. Taking care of a set of twins, and a horrible depression at the same time, had taken its mental toll on her.

She’d managed to shake the worst of it once the winter snow passed, finally feeling less listless after months of immobility.

Guilt constantly nipped at the back of her conscience at how she’d essentially ignored her little blobby children as they ventured around the cottage and her.

Thankfully, they didn’t seem to care at all, happy to explore the confines, play with each other, and snuggle up to her freely.

Even though she embraced them whenever they desired, it didn’t make the nagging doubt in the corner of her heart go away. She... felt like a bad mother, even though she couldn’t help it at the time.

Once spring had come and melted the world, Lindi had then felt renewed and set off to help them find their skulls and horns.

She’d spent enough time with them that she didn’t delay this task, although it took nearly nine months from when she gave birth to them.

She wanted them to be utterly perfect in her choices, but they were also a large handful together.

She just didn’t have the skills to keep them calm and with her once they gained their skulls. Even without their horns yet, they’d just been too much.

She still didn’t know if it was okay that she let them go off on their own, but they’d gained their horns at different times. She constantly wondered if she should have waited in case they were bonded, like Nathair and Orson seemed to be in their own way.

But, like before, they didn’t seem to care.

The moment one was gone, the other seemed to forget their very existence.

Guilt nipped at her harder for it, yet in some ways, it was a good thing.

It allowed her to drop them off in two different locations, spreading her children across the continent of Eyropea.

Hopefully that meant Weldir wouldn’t need her to carry another child for that area – at least for some time.

Afterwards, she’d felt this loneliness twisting in her stomach. And, with the fact that she wanted little to do with Weldir, someone who offered nothing, she wanted affection. She longed to feel wanted, and not have the space next to her feel so empty.

She didn’t find it with Odie, who immediately tried to attack her. At least they’d ventured north and away from Londinium. She didn’t know when her mindset about human death had changed, but she couldn’t wait to find out what gender they’d end up being. She wanted to see their personality flourish.

She felt that way with Dymphna as well, who was a little stronger and a little less chaotic in the mind.

Lindi wanted her children to grow and evolve. She wanted them to become like Nathair, who bashed the bottom of his fist against the top of Orson’s head to stop him.

Orson spun to Nathair and roared in his direction.

“Stop,” Nathair demanded, his orbs flaring red.

Orson snapped his fangs at him in response, shaking his head from side to side before nudging his nose in Lindi’s direction.

“No... st...op,” Orson croaked, obviously not confident with speaking. Honestly, it was hard to decipher, like his mind and throat were full of gravel and shards of rock. “Danger.”

Lindi couldn’t help the proud smile that parted her lips. “You’ve been teaching him how to speak!” Lindi exclaimed, her heart racing with joy.

Every opportunity she had, Lindi had been teaching Nathair how to talk. He wasn’t amazing, but he could string together enough to make basic sense. She suffered little regret that it was likely due to how many humans he’d consumed that he had the ability to speak.

She was proud that Nathair was teaching Orson, just as she’d always hoped.

Maybe I can figure out a way to get him to travel to other parts of the world to teach the others. Her chest blossomed with warmth when he snapped his serpent jaw at Orson, who backed down with a disgruntled snarl. Look at them snapping at each other like real siblings.

Nathair then twisted towards Lindi, and skulked low on his hands and slithering tail to approach. He was wary, but hopefully somewhere in that disjointed mind, he knew she was safe. That she cared for him, even if he never understood the depth of just how much.

Her bones tingled with the urge to reach her hands up and greet his skull with a loving, cupping hold, but she snuffed it.

Every time she’d attempted to do that in the past, he’d reacted very negatively.

If she kept her hands down and in plain sight while moving very slowly, especially at a small distance, she was permitted to stay nearby.

It wasn’t enough to quell the depth of her loneliness, but it was enough to make it ignorable for a short while.

“Hello,” Nathair grated, his voice a tremulous ripple, deep and gruff, and almost close to being indistinguishable to someone who wasn’t used to the beastly tone.

But Lindi was able to decipher him clearly, and she looked up to his towering height with a smile.

Orson frantically paced behind him on all fours with agitated stomps, constantly flaring red in her direction as his bull tail whipped to the side.

Her cheer almost fell, and she wished he was more amicable and approachable, but unlike Nathair, he was always unable to be soothed.

He always seemed to be... angry and unapproachable.

“Hello, Nathair. Have you been a good boy?”

Nathair tilted his serpent skull, and his dark-yellow orbs deepened. “Nath... there?”

Her lips twitched as they unfurled from their smile, and her brows drew together. “You forgot your name again?”

“No,” he grumbled, tossing his head around as his orbs flared a reddish pink. “No forget name again. ”

She gave a mild laugh and placed her hands behind her back.

“You’re turning out to be a big liar, Nathair.” She repeated his name, hoping one day he would remember it. She’d keep doing so until then. She pointed her chin towards the one skulking agitatedly behind him. “Have you been nice to Orson?”

Nathair snorted through his nose holes before a big huff came from them, close enough to billow hot air over her. He didn’t answer, instead clacking his jaw together. It was his way of saying he didn’t understand what she’d said.

Then he leaned forward to sniff around her curls, and cool bone brushed against her cheekbone. Her stomach tightened with tension, wary of his nearness and how quickly he could violently strike, but her chest aching with the unintentional affection was more prevalent.

Every part of her very being wanted to nuzzle into his snout.

“Smell different,” Nathair muttered. Then he reached out to lift a few feathers from her cloak with careful claws. “Different.”

“Yes. I smell different. I’m using a scent-cloaking spell to hide my scent.” When he pulled back to inspect her as she spoke, she played with her cloak. “Feathers. These are black feathers, from a raven.”

“Raven?” He tilted his head, only to lift his arms up so he could lightly flap his hands to the side. “Like bird?”