Hunger ate as fast as he was able, and yet, paradoxically, he did not in the slightest bit seem rushed. It was more a mechanical act--automated, instinctive, with a precise efficiency despite his clumsy youth. It was, in a sense mindless--and the youth certainly showed absolutely no emotion as he consumed the meat.

When he had swallowed down the last of it he settled back, smacking his jaws once or twice to clear it of residual hide. Then the jaws slowly widened, that single red eye finding Nox and staring at her, watching.

The child gave a quiet gurgle, a sound that would later in life perhaps be a rumble. It might have been contentment, acknowledgement, or warning; it certainly held nothing so useful as words to point the way.

He then simply lay there, settling deeper in the flank-high black mud, watching Nox.

@Nox

Nox watched with statuesque fascination as the child ate. She took in every motion with avid curiosity, and never seemed to tire of simply wondering. As the newborn finished, and sat back, she followed, drawing her head in close, and examining the young-one's throat-eye, like she was looking in a mirror. She didn't seem to notice the young one's hesitation, or that he was likely preparing to flee; as he gurgled, she let out a deep, rumbling gurgle of her own- a sound that sent the mud rippling.

It was supposed to be a sound of reassurance; but would the child take it as such? It didn't seem to cross the draconian's mind that the sound might be, to one so young, ominous, agressive, or deeply unsettling.

Nox stared a little longer, took another slow step closer, closed her jaws and went to try and give the small creature a tiny, slimy nudge with the end of her nose.

She sniffed and blew a small shower of slime at him.

@Hunger

The hatchling was not even entertaining the idea of flight. Nor did it take the rumbles as unsettling; they were, after all, its own sounds, and it instinctively recognized them as such. The same, but... older. Larger. If Nox was going to eat it, she would have done so; she had led Hunger here, and fed it.

But was she telling it, now, with her sounds and this nudge--which it accepted iwth stoic indifference--to leave? Was it lingering too long in Nox's territory?

The young monster tilted his jaws a little wider as Nox blew oily spray, as if to watch her, its body tensing and rocking back a little. It stared, then slowly, quite reptilian in its movement and without the grace of its mother, it turned and began to haul itself away. It wound up facing a forty-five or so degree angle away, then paused, waiting--as if asking if this was enough, or perhaps, if it was correct. A quiet, low gurgle escaped it--nothing particularly meaningful, more a call to attention, as if to emphasize its unspoken question.

@Nox

Nox's jaws gradually opened once again as she heard yet another low gurgle. But to her surprise, the child appeared to be leaving. The great being drew back slightly, its skin crawled all over, reforming into a texture of maggots for a moment. "Don't go," she rumbled, suddenly at loathe to be alone again. Dozens of cycles of aloneness suddenly felt heavy upon her. Her skin settled after a while into a texture of melancholy scales. She continued to stare.

"Sssafe here. I will keep you ssssafe," she offered, raising up her head and settling her chin on her chest, and continuing to watch the tiny creature with a sort of resolute quiet. Her voice was dutiful; she felt it necessary, and she felt it the right thing to do almost as much as her own instincts nudged her into taking care of it.

And yet, some part of her still marvelled; she knew that she had to show Dragon this wonder of nature, this tiny child so like, and yet unlike, each of them. This was a feeling she'd never experienced before.

But it was a pleasant one.

@Hunger

It stopped where it had begun to leave, and instead lay quiet, listening to Nox's vocalizations. It didn't quite understand them, but it grasped that she was not pressing Hunger to flee. So there it lay, silent for a moment, before slowly hauling itself back around to point the ruby-colored eye at her.

The jaw contorted, the throat working, and a series of gurgling clicks and groans escaped it, as if it were trying--and failing--to speak. At last, it seemed to somehow get a grasp on the basic method of using its throat to whisper-groan, and a guttural, if high-pitched, pair of words erupted like gas through swamp mud.

"Hhhheeeerree. Kkeeeeep."

Hunger didn't understand these words, though a faint flicker of sentience took note of them, and the patterns in which Nox spoke. Perhaps, if it didn't understand the meaning, it understood, at least, that there must be some; but there was no urgency in its learning, no bright drive to master it more quickly. It simply repeated, and then lay there, waiting.

@Nox

"Yesssss. Keep. Sssssssafe." Nox repeated the words back at the young one. She didn't seem to notice that it did not understand. Or, if she did, hoped that repetition would help it to. The strange, grinding clicks of the young one were sounds that she had never heard, or produced herself, and she answered these with a low, throbbing rumble of her own.

She finally straightened up, and with alien grace, stepped past the young one. She waded into the bog until she was knee-deep in the murk. She glanced back, as though waiting, beckoning the young one to follow. "Come," she rumbled. And then, after taking a moment to take deep, snorting scents of the air, moved away- glowing red eye scanning the mist for anything that might show her where to find its father.

-exit Nox-

@Hunger

Hunger grumbled, not in an irritated way--but as if still trying to use its throat to speak. Its attempt at words, though, created only more garbled sound, and it fell silent.

When Nox spoke, it listened. It did not understand the meaning of the words--not yet--but it vaguely noted them, and it was at least a chance that it might remember for later. Or, it might forget; it did not seem to matter overmuch to the hybrid.

Nox's oily black body slicked ahead into the dark, and Hunger followed. Its spiderlike forelegs pivoted sharply forward and back, causing its body to jerk forward in halting movements, but it moved fairly quickly despite this. At times, its jaws closed, particularly when going through deeper water. At this points it would often stop, and listen, pinpointing its mother with sound alone. But when it could, its jaw stayed open, craned forward so that its red eye could watch her lead the way.

It did not know where they were going. It might lose interest, should they go too far, and stop; but for now it had energy enough, and had eaten. Instinct told it that this creature, its carer, had reason to lead it--and so it followed.

That, for the time being, was enough motive.

exit Hunger