Growing up, it may have a been blessing to not hear words… but she saw the expressions. Magnified because of inability to hear, she was constantly reminded by the pitying stares or exaggerated movements that there was something extraordinarily different about her - in some wolves eyes, it was something wrong with her. Nahal had always felt close to Haziel because she felt he understood a similar struggle. While she experienced the peculiar way others treated her through vision, she knew Haziel received the experience in a different way. Often, she felt, he’d experienced a harsher one. Forfax had done his best for them, but she was glad he’d decided to march down a path further from home. He deserved a life free of worrying about his siblings. Hopefully, distance was enough to keep the worry from him.

Nahal was firmly planted in Moladion for as long as Haziel was there. Her fondest memories were of him teaching her words. Words, because of her years of negligence, that she’d forgotten how to pronounce. Lip-reading was still available to her (though she was rusty). She was eager to resume her lessons so that she could communicate with him beyond the confines of touch; Since he was unable to see her body language, her solution was to communicate with him through touch. Her body stilled with attentiveness when the syllables of her name formed on his lips. She waited a moment to see if he’d say more. When it was evident he wouldn’t, Nahal wriggled like a happy pup and padded up to his inviting posture. She greeted him by pressing her cheek tenderly against his. Then, she sat back.

She attempted, ”Aye umm Haah-hal.”

Her tongue flashed over her nose and lips. The vibration felt sticky in her throat. She hummed, which was an old habit she’d learned to preempt small movements that would otherwise be unpredictable to blind eyes. Nahal leaned forward and touched her nose softly to the corner of Haziel’s mouth, then retreated, and watched his lips.