3 | Nicknames

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"Well, look who's here," a familiar voice speared from behind a dagrine rear

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"Well, look who's here," a familiar voice speared from behind a dagrine rear. April knitted her eyebrows, not quite making sense of how in Pidmena's name it was able to talk.

A woman with ocher locks and a mischievous smile peeked past the dagrine's backside, giving the animal a quick rub. The dagrine's off-white tail twitched with the comfort the gesture brought to it.

April cleared her throat, her hands tightening around the enveloped letter she came bearing. "Hera, I need your help," she said.

Herana Elin, April's longest friend for a whole twelve years, snorted and tucked strands of her hair that escaped her single-plaited braid behind her pointy ears. The light freckles dusting her nose and cheeks glinted against the faint rays of sunlight shining through the stable's roof. Underneath their feet, countless strands of dried straw scratched and crunched with every step Hera took to make it to where April stood by the wooden building's door.

"I was beginning to think you've forgotten about me," Hera said, dusting her hands against her dark blue trousers. Her tight-fitting tunic showed off her noticeable chest and hugged her shoulders quite nicely. She sidled next to April and knocked her shoulder against April's. "Come on, you could have dropped by earlier in the month."

April swallowed against the growing lump in her throat. What was she even doing earlier in the month? Apparently so much she couldn't even tell them apart. "Why? Did you miss me?" she snapped, despite the delight curling in her gut upon seeing her friend even just this briefly. "I've been caught up with a lot of things in the Palace."

Hera bobbed her head in understanding. "Well, you're in luck," she turned to the inside of the stables and strode away. "I'm just finishing for the day. I'll meet you outside in a few minutes."

April pursed her lips, staying rooted in her place. As much as she hated the thick smell of manure and wet fur wafting in the air, she also didn't like standing outside on her own like a jilted lover. "I think I'll just stand here and watch you like a bird of prey."

A wince twisted Hera's face as she moved to retrieve one of the long-handled rakes at the farthest corner of the stable. "Please don't do that," she bent down and began persecuting the hills of scratchy straw. "You know I get self-conscious."

Which she shouldn't even be, in the first place. With her looks—warm sienna skin, tall and curvy frame, and the deepest shade of brown making up the feathers of her wings—she was bound to secure for herself a suitor...or two, if she willed it. Yet, Hera stayed here, in the Palace stables, tending to the cart animals the nobles use in carrying their stuff around Azorgend. If not for April stumbling upon Hera being fired from her job as a server in a tavern in Starvale, Hera would still be wandering the streets, or she could have found a job in Aphesa.

The memory of their meeting now played in her mind, making a small smile creep to her lips without her permission. She and Hera met during one of April's yearly trips to the other cities in Falkirta.

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