#featuring aldra my best friend aldra from algae slime

[mothermara]

"... The joke goes like this, right? So a star orphan and a daedric demi-prince walk into a bear,"

Volkmir didn't know what time it was—it seemed to be either dusk or dawn, the pale red moon drifting low above the treeline amidst a cold silken sky. It was an odd thing to feel so restless in that rare moment of peace. He stretched his shoulders, one at a time, trying to release the growing ache within them. One made a startling pop and he tensed, waiting for the transformative reflex to subside.

Learning his beastform had proved easy, almost instinctive, and honing it had been even easier; it was being a man that was vexing as ever.

A man? A boy? He asked himself this as he ducked under the trunk of a fallen tree. Ma said, "You'll always be little to me, Mirya. Nothing to do with how tall you get."

It'd been some time since he came to the Hunting Grounds. Perhaps he'd gotten taller.

There was the sound of running water somewhere nearby, and the smell of blood met Volkmir's senses soon after. He trailed it through the undergrowth, looking out for signs of another hunter in pursuit of their quarry. It would be nice to finally meet another person, even if they weren't the most agreeable company. The solitude was starting to gnaw at him.

In a stream, a white horse with a curved horn jutting from its head laid. Its sides heaved with slow, wheezing breaths that sent bloody bubbles foaming from a deep wound in its neck.

"Oh! Hello, love," a voice pressed into his mind with a curious lilt, "... What sort of creature are you?"

Cautiously, he met the gaze of the dying beast, who had lifted its head slightly to look at him.

Volkmir replied, voice weak and raspy from disuse, "I'm... I don't know, really- what do you mean?"

"Nevermind that. Darling, would you sit with me? Just for what time I've left. I don't think it'll be very long, but it's quite lonely out here, is all..."

He nodded and settled down beside them.

"... My father is the Huntsman Prince. I'm not sure what title that would give me... Bastard son among bastard sons, I guess?"

They laughed at this, and their voice was the hush of seafoam across a rocky shore. He glanced at the horse, which had rested her nose on his knee. The blood had slowed, but not stopped— still, she clung to these last breaths.

"You smell like a- like those younger deer, with the two-spiked antlers. Did you know this?" The voice asked.

So he even smelled of naivete. The thought made him feel a bit flustered, somehow. He studied the flow of the creek, trying to not think too hard about being entirely unclothed.

"... Ah, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You're going to die, soon, so it won't matter."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Do you have a name, little one?" the voice felt as though it was waning, now.

He thought about the question for a moment, suddenly unsure if there was still a name that felt like his own.

"... It's Mirya. What's yours?"

"Aldra... Would you say it for me? I'll know if it's right, then."

"Well, Aldra, that better not be some kind of fae trick or I’ll truly be a complete fool."

"This host is far too late for tricks, beloved Mirya. But yes, that'll do wonderfully, I think. Thank you."

The two fell silent, for a while. He realized the horse no longer sighed, and her eyes had grown glassy and sightless. A breeze tousled through the canopy of leaves above. The sky was brighter now, for dawn had broken at last.

Again, Mirya's heart ached to go home.