Nazir

The Warrior
Mates with Myxine

gifted by friend

"Aaah, the whelp returns." Nazir's first sight upon returning to his birth clan is a less than welcome sight. Shadowclaw, draped over grasping tree limbs, half submerged in the murky water of the Tangled Woods.
"We have been expecting you." The older Undertide rustles his wing-fins, hauls his enormous coils upwards with them.
"To train, you come crawling back. As you should. No place like one's spawning grounds to make one realize their own strength."

"You are scaring the hatchling, Shadowclaw."

"Be nice, he is still so young after all..." Two voices from the same place, hauntingly beautiful and sibilant. Crystal-gleaming hide moves out from the underbrush. The head of curled horns leers up at Nazir, the straight-horned one turns to Shadowclaw.
"Welcome to the depths of the Tangled Woods. Long you have been with the Green."

"We don't need to coddle a whelp seeking strength, Luxa," Shadowclaw hisses, fins flaring.
"But... I suppose he isn't hopeless." Eyes adapted to the darkness roam over Nazir's enormous form.
"Come along. The Elders have assigned us to you. They would have trained you themselves, but they have important matters to attend to." Soundlessly, the large coils disappear back underneath the murky water.
"Your gills will not dry out where we shall take you. The mire awaits." "Look at you, whelp. Not just all pretty." Shadowclaw peers up at Nazir, one eye swollen shut from a nasty cut the most recent molten wartoad landed.
"You can hit surprisingly hard. Didn't think you had any fangs."

"Stop antagonizing him, Shadowclaw," Luxa sighs, one head deep asleep, the other one preoccupied with gutting and field-dressing a Furry Fiddle.
"He is trying. You aren't as antagonistic with our other trainees."

"You and I don't train as much together as you think. You tend to be with your fellow Aberration, not with me." He grins, the cuts on his face pulling with it. That has to hurt. If it does, he doesn't show it.
"Jazdia isn't a born Undertide. Ulyette is, but he is soft. I wondered if their kid had their lack of fangs."

"It's not as if you were born an Undertide either," Nazir interjects quietly.
"You were Wildclaw before. You traded wings and sickle claws for fins and gills. Don't rag on my mother for trading her wings and feathers for fins and gills so she could be with my father. That is unfair." Surprised silence, before Shadowclaw begins to laugh. It's loud, it's ugly, it's honest. It wouldn't surprise Nazir if he could see the pharyngeal jaws of his trainer soon.

"Good one, kid. You got me on that front." Shadowclaw arranges his wing-fins.
"You have bite. That's good. You need it if you want to fight for a living. Just don't cry if you come home with some nice new scars on that muzzle of yours." Next to him, Luxa sighs, then throws the gutted body of the furry fiddle at Shadowclaw.

"Shut up and eat."
Bonus scene:

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Nazir shakes out the length of his body. That was a rough battle, but they made it. He feels sore, but he knows he has grown stronger - much stronger. He flexes his claws, digging into the muddy dirt. As if on cue, a small delivery dragon swoops down, dropping a package with a heavy thunk. It’s wrapped endearingly with vines and fresh blooms - it’s from home, with Mustard’s signature smiley face drawn in gooey purple paint.

Nearby, the elder two look on. Smiles paint Luxa's faces, and even Shadowcalw can't quite resist a fond sigh. The whelp is in good hands.