Chapter Text
When Nazrik was young, he'd always been told that the twin tails that he has signifies the existence of another soul existing within him. A sign that he will become a renowned warrior throughout the Wildborns and in part, he has learned to chalk this all up as simple motivations to keep trying harder, to learn better, to become stronger.
When the Bloodhunt festival came and when he has lost much of everything; his best friends, his fellow warriors, his belief-- another significant lost comes to him, one he did not expect.
The fire came as surprise but it had licked at his fur, warm and almost a comforting feeling despite the blades brandished against him by his fellow warriors. A blast of sizzling power whizzing past as a thin barrier surrounds him and his companions only ever so briefly, the attack hitting the others, just enough to throw them off and for Nazrik and Dunn to get into gear and retaliate. It was not so unfamiliar of a feeling. Like a trusted companion returning, staying, to keep watch of what is important.
"Nazrik? What are you doing here?"
The voice is hurried and worried, yet warm and deep and definitely nothing like Nazrik's. Like an old friend returning, it fusses over him as he looks for its source as Dunn concludes it must be his other soul. His heart thrums. He has never thought it to be real but in that moment, when he asks if the voice was trully his other half, he thinks he has never felt a truth to be so right.
The voice answers hesitantly with a yes.
With the truth of his other half coming, to protect him, stand for him, guide him-- Nazrik somehow also knew it would not last for long. So as he sat by the fire, the voice asking about lovers yet hearing a sort of fondness he is much too young still to name, as they talk in the quiet of the rustling forest, he savours it. For this little while.
