Nyxa
Getting soaked as a wolf was a whole world away from gliding under the water with her wings.
She detested the way it clung to every fibre of her coat and drug her down, and how even a light splashing would turn the earthy musk of her smell to common wet dog. Her face sours at his threat (she knows he won’t do it, though he could) but Hod aptly gives her no time for response. He knows her tongue better than most.
Instead he trudges on, determined as ever and hardly put off by the unfamiliar ground. Nyxa knows to step aside, to weave inconspicuously through the brush herself and only intervene when he’s reached an impasse. The two work well in tandem; months of living in each other’s presence has given them a rhythmic flow - Hod ahead, Nyxa aside until a tendril caught him fast and then she would leap in to gnaw it free, then the tempo would continue.
They journey like this for some time, Hod taking a moment’s respite to describe the odd smell. “Like sassafras? Could be bayleaf …” Her thoughts wander, the prick of a memory sparking floral, cinnamon tones on her tongue with the hint of an evergreen tang to her nose. Her dam had brought them home, once, for her to meander over and taste but Nyxa hasn’t forgotten the morsels. The fact that they might be growing on this island tugs at her heartstrings; had Circinae planted some for her to find?
Unaware that they’d both been walking in silent contemplation, Hod’s sudden diversion from their deertrail startles her into a stop. You smell that? He asks, producing a sigh from the narrow chest of his traveling companion. Reluctantly her dark nose tips up, the faint quiver of her nostrils alerting her to what Hod had found. “Shew!” The little wolf thought, quick to wrinkle her snout. “It’s a skunk, Hod - don’t go over there!” She grumbles aloud.
Hod was Hod, though, and just like the very first day they’d met in the meadow he chooses to barge ahead in fulfillment of his own interests. With a gasp that turns her ears aside and her mood black, Nyxa mutters darkly before leaping forward to catch up with his quickly disappearing form. “If that thing sprays you I’m leaving you here, alone, tonight!” She nags from behind, plodding through the jurassic ferns to pause at his side, head tilted up to look at him with narrowed eyes.
She’s about to snap at him until he interrupts her. What did we find, Nyx? What’s it look like?
With another childish huff she turns to look.
“Holy shit.” She starts, edging forward incrementally as if she’s terrified that one might spring to life and grasp her. She’d been so busy and focused on the bayleaf that’d she’d not considered just how overpowering the smell actually was. Not to mention that these bushes were gigantic - ancient strains left to grow tall and unencumbered out in the bright island sun. “They’re weeds.” She laughs, “Smelly weeds! I wonder what they’re doing here? Come on, Hod, there’s nothing but them for about an acre.” Nyxa concludes, trotting ahead to weave in between the stalks.
What purpose could they possibly serve? Her answer comes in the form of a bright parrot, swooping down to perch on a nearby tendril before plucking the felt-like blossom from underneath a five-pointed leaf. “Looks like they’re edible, too. The birds must’ve deposited the seeds and now … well there’s a field full.” The she-wolf chuckles, her nose smarting from the stench of them all.
“Want to try one and tell me what it’s like?” She asks, tilting a charming head up to see the expression on his face.
Wayward daughter of Canaan and Circinae
@[Hod] I can roll with it xD I always wondered if horses would find it more agreeable anyways, given that they're herbivores already...