The plains were just as fascinating now as they had been when he was a pup, though he had only visited once. Nyteshade had spent the majority of his young life outside of Molodian which was just as well since it meant he could have somewhat of a clear head in it’s affairs now. Only somewhat though, since it seemed that he had a penchant for being in the right spots to re-meet those he had met before. Rekindle friendships and revisit family. Menkhet was the first wolf he met once returning and leaving his father’s side, which seemed only fair considering he had met her before too. Had been just as fascinated back then as he was now, though he watched her with an almost obsessed gleam in his pale silver-green eyes.

She had led him here with ease. If she thought he was a snake like his father, well, it seemed she was eager for his venom, just as he relished in her possessive play. It did not matter to him that she left a few small markings. Scratches that healed but revealed the taste of his blood. Readily he offered it to her, taking what she was willing to give, fascinated by the Princess and the secrets they now shared.

Still, Menkhet was a busy wolf, and Nyteshade was distracted by the multi-colored male who padded across the plains alone. From a distance the breeze reveals his scent. He is of some relation to Menkhet and, judging by his age and growth, likely a litter mate. Nyteshade tilts his silvered face, thoughts turning inward for a moment, wondering at where Talon or Belladona had went. Both sisters, one a half, but what was the difference between half and whole? Blood was blood and so far, blood was interesting.

Pushing up from his prone position, the wayward son of Blackthorne begins to stalk after Kaliban, his movements smooth then jerking. His ears fall back as he clamps his jaws shut to try and stifle his strange cackle – it was Menkhet’s fault. Ever since her giggle he seemed unable to stop trying to mimic it, though it came out more deranged than high-pitched fun.

He slinks, crouching, using his paws to push the stalks of grass to the side as he walks rather than crunch them beneath him. The boy was eclectic but not stupid, not when it really counted. The desire to race forward, to snap at the heels of Kaliban, is almost overwhelming and even as he bunches his hips to do it, uncaring of consequences, he freezes. It is only the chatter that stops him and diverts his attention, his ears swiveling forward once more. Sister?

Now, unable to sate his curiosity behind the thick veil of grass, Nyteshade stands up and walks towards them unabashedly. Hopefully Kaliban and this mystery girl would be startled at his appearance – at least he would get a good cackle out of that. His eyes zero on Kaliban then slide past, pausing on Lamia, even as a wicked grin crosses his maw. ”Cousin!” He ambles towards her, his straight path rocking to the side as he passes Kaliban so that his shoulder bumps into other boys. It is not done out of meanness, only testing, wondering if Kaliban was as much of a fiend for personal space as Menkhet.

”Brother, sister, my cousin, does that make you my cousin by extension too then?” Nyteshade stops, breathing into Lamia’s space before turning sideways and sitting down so he could swivel his head between them. Yes, he thinks, Kaliban could be his cousin too. If he is something to Lamia shouldn’t he also be something to him as well?