Somehow, in the span of less than a day, Natron had gone from sedate and serious, focused entirely on her bookless study of some nameless magic, to frantically hyperactive and impatient, both a pest and a menace to the rest of the apartment. Netahiln thanked whatever gods might be out there and paying attention-- with the obvious exception of Anathema and the Red Demon, if they even counted-- that she had very few things to break: Natron was quite literally bouncing off the walls, as well as the sparse furniture and Netahiln, herself. She thanked those gods even more fervently that she had plenty of work to keep her out of the apartment so she didn't have to deal with the brat.

Except even then, she discovered that she still had to deal with her, because Natron pestered her every ten minutes with questions about what she was doing, whether she could help, whether she'd checked recently to see if Habithi had come back yet. She even had suggestions for what she could be doing to help at any given time, lending yet more credence to Netahiln's certainty that the brat could spy on her somehow and making her wrap her mind in a tighter shield angrily. It also made her snap at the kitten to leave her alone and let her work in peace, more often than not, which was what got her the ten-minute periods of silence in the first place. Unfortunately, Natron would always come back with another question or check-in or pestering, and each time she sounded a little more strained, a little more desperate, as if she needed to be doing something, and she needed it right now.

It made no sense. For three months, Natron had been bearable. A nosy little brat, for certain, but still: sensible, for a baby; generally polite and down-to-earth; practical and with a sense of humor Netahiln could even appreciate a little. Now she was snappish, restless, brimming with energy, and apparently as frustrated as Netahiln herself but helpless to stop it. What had happened to the kid Netahiln could stand, and who had replaced her with this frustrating little ball of energy?

::What the hell is wrong with you?:: she demanded at last, when she got home that evening-- when she couldn't find reasons to stay longer on the job, having officially run out of things to do-- and had gotten sick of batting the energetic hatchling away from her. After the last, Natron had only spun in mid-air to hit the wall with her paws and bounced right off of it. As much as Netahiln was amused by the idea of playing racquetball with a fiery kitten, she was more annoyed by being climbed on or run across or otherwise being pestered while she tried to relax in front of the holo.

At the question, Natron tried very hard to hold still, but it didn't work very well: her tail was lashing back and forth, one hind paw kept twitching, and her flames were bigger and hotter-seeming than ever. ::Nothing,:: she lied. She failed at sounding innocent, too.

::Yeah, like I believe that,:: Netahiln growled at her. ::Out with it, runt.::

Glaring at her-- lately she'd been taking particular offense at cracks about her size-- Natron just said, ::I'm ready for Habithi to come back now.:: Well, that didn't explain anything at all, and it was something Netahiln had already guessed, given the number of times she'd asked that day. She added one more to the count: ::Are you sure he hasn't?::

::Positive,:: Netahiln sighed.

::Check again?::

Mostly just to humor Natron, and hopefully make her shut up for a while, Netahiln checked again. The link, as usual, was tight and vague with distance, and though her habitual testing of it had increased her range and given her occasional flashes of what her bond felt or thought, it still left her with a headache to try too hard or too often. Today had definitely been one of those "too often" days, as Natron's obsession had prodded her to check it more than usual and her constant reminders of Habithi's presence had made her more nervous about his return than usual.

Because she was still nervous, damn it all. He was due back any day now, with the prerequisite three months between biotheurges due to be up as of today-- or possibly yesterday, or tomorrow; she wasn't entirely certain of the exact date. She still didn't feel like she had a viable plan, and though having a back-up in case Habithi decided she was fair game for corrupting, in the form of young Raesun helped ease her mind a little, she didn't feel he was up to fixing her yet. Not that she honestly expected him to go that far, given his own preferance for avoiding pain. It almost made things worse, too, that she had little Natron hovering around, insisting that she help. Sure, the fireling was probably plenty powerful, but none of the things she'd shown Netahiln so far seemed particularly useful except, really, her unexplained method of spying. None of them even, it seemed, would keep her safe.

::I wish you'd stop bugging me about it,:: she grumbled, prodding at the link unhappily. ::He's not back yet, and it'd honestly be much more satisfying all around if he never--::

She broke off in shock as the link quite suddenly snapped back into "normalcy"-- not what had been normal for the past three months of his absence, but what had been normal before that. The clumsy block-- which she expected she could slip past even more easily, now-- the buzz of confidence and annoyance that hovered around him, and the returned presence of the minor deity, as if she could just reach out and touch him-- or throttle him.

::Netahiln?:: Natron asked sharply, voice full of impatience, eagerness, and even a little concern. ::What is it?::

Now was not the time to sound afraid. It was stupid to be afraid. He wasn't going to hurt her, after all, she'd figured that out a while ago. Not her, not someone whose pain would be echoed through their bond and cause him pain. Hell, at this point, if he so much as tried, she could magnify anything she felt through their bond, so he'd have to be awfully masochistic to cause her harm. If his little two-headed horsey tagalong had any sense, she'd have told him that by now.

No, he wouldn't hurt her. But Netahiln, unlike him, had attachments-- which was his point in not having them. She, after all, was weak and foolish for caring about Kalaia: look at what it had done to her when he'd hurt Kalaia the first time. And now there was Natron who, annoying and intrusive and un-asked-for as she was, still somehow mattered a little bit to her. 

Shit, she'd better not let Habithi find that out. The idea of Habithi using her against him-- and he would-- was not one she wanted to really contemplate. She was just a kitten, for god's sakes, and not at all reassuring as a "partner". 

Better not let Natron find that out, either, for that matter.

::Netahiln?:: Natron repeated, frowning now and looking more like her usual self.

Netahiln rumbled unhappily, the quietly-running holo completely forgotten behind her. ::He's back.::

The change in Natron was immediate: she went tensely still, her green flames flared painfully brightly, and she almost seemed to... ripple. Her body, not the fire. It wasn't just the heat making her look funny, Netahiln could have sworn that she actually... changed, a little. But she didn't look any different, and then Natron was moving again, bounding around the room excitedly, and she couldn't tell.

::Come on, come on!:: Natron exclaimed.

::Come on, where?:: Netahiln asked suspiciously.

::Aren't we going to meet him? I've been waiting for him to get back ever since-- I mean, he's the reason I'm here! Come on!:: She came to rest in front of the door, watching Netahiln impatiently, but she was still twitchy, bouncing on her paws. 

Netahiln scowled at her. ::Don't be stupid. We're keeping you quiet for as long as we can.::

That got Natron to stop bouncing. She stared at Netahiln, and she was sure that expression-- even difficult to see behind the flames as it was-- was disappointed. ::But the hydra knows everything! What would be the point of trying to keep a secret?::

::Just because the horse--:: Netahiln had started calling the hydra Terebinth "the horse" lately; it made her seem less formidable; ::--knows everything doesn't mean she tells everything, moron.:: Netahiln raised a paw to give Natron a cuff, but wound up kicking the chair instead as the sheer heat from those flames rebuffed her. ::And the longer you keep a low profile, the longer she takes to get around to telling him about you!::

::But--::

::And he might not even understand what she tells him,:: Netahiln continued over the top of the kitten's angry protest. It gave her a savage pleasure to know she was still the better telepath, godling or no godling, and could literally smother her little charge's sending. ::If he doesn't see you, all he gets is cryptic riddles.::

::He's not stupid, he'll figure them out!:: Natron spat furiously. ::If we go, we know when and how, exactly, he'll find out! Otherwise we'll have to guess, and we might guess wrong!::

::If we go now, we give him reason to question the horse about you!:: Netahiln countered, growling. ::Right now you're an unknown, or a riddle that only has limited information in it! Right now, you're a mystery and, if you're lucky, you'll stay that way for a good, long while! Right now--::

Natron interrupted her before she could say anything incriminating like "right now you're safe". Which had been the next thing in her thoughts to spew out. Damn it all, she was getting soft. This was not a good thing.

::I had it all planned out!:: the hatchling raged. ::I was going to surprise him, and intimidate him, and he was going to think twice before crossing us, and--::

::If we go haul your little flamey ass in front of him, right now, he'll eat you for dinner,:: Netahiln said flatly. ::Probably not even dinner-- a snack.::

::He wouldn't dare,:: Natron bristled, her fire crackling loudly and her body-- rippling again. It was disconcerting.

::You think he won't?:: Netahiln snorted. ::He's as much a god as you are, brat.:: She'd scoff as much as she had to if she finally convinced the brat to stay home and stay a secret for longer-- she could possibly be of use if she stayed out of sight, but she'd be useless if Habithi started questioning the horse about her. Useless and, probably, dead.

Hell, she'd be insulting if she had to. It worked with Kalaia. ::You're a baby,:: she continued derisively. ::He can size-shift, and he habitually wears a shape bigger than me. You wouldn't even be a mouthful.::

::I'm not a baby!:: Natron protested, sounding gravely insulted.

::Excuse me, kitten,:: Netahiln sneered.

::I am not! I'm not a kitten, I'm--::

::Could've fooled me, you're barely a mouthful to me,:: Netahiln shot.

::I--::

There was another crackle of flame, dancing over Natron's tiny little body. She broke off her sending before saying anything meaningful, tiny teeth bared and fire raging around her-- Netahiln couldn't help but be impressed that, even angrier than she'd ever been, still nothing was actually burning or melting, even though she could feel the heat coming off the brat in waves. The air around her was distorted with it, but nothing was coming to harm around her-- thank god, because Netahiln didn't want to try to explain a melted floor to her landlord.

Except then, before she could get out any more words, she exploded.

Netahiln actually fell backwards off her chair in surprise and, really, self-preservation. That fire was hot, and uncomfortable, and-- and-- big! The holo crackled and flickered off and she could smell burned fur, though once she'd gotten the big, metal, deep-seated chair between her and where Natron had been before she'd-- turned into a giant, green fireball-- she patted herself down to make sure she wasn't actually in fire. Smoking a little, smelling distinctly singed, but definitely not on fire.

That was when she got around to peering over the chair at where Natron had... just been. Where she half-expected to see a smoky smear on the metal-tile floor. Or ash. Or....

... a big, shiny, green-fired dragon.

::I am not,:: Natron's voice-- deeper, more adult, and definitely coming from the dragon-- said firmly, ::a baby.::

This time Netahiln thought she might believe her. 

Chapter Sixteen

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