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"Mm..." murmured Hijil, sitting back to better look at her handiwork. It was a gorgeous braid, in-turned and encircling her friends head like a halo before falling down along her spine. It was like a tail, thought Hijil, or a flow of water. Hijil liked it, and was pleased with her handiwork.

"Yes." she smiled, relieved, almost, to not have to ask. "I would like to meet her, someday." she continued awkwardly.

Her hand followed the thick braid gently down her friend's back before drawing away, her silence, more expressive, it seemed than her words, thoughtful. "I have you." she said simply. The truth was, she had no idea what Ast was like, or what they would do about an alkidike. She had seen so little of it. Her mother, though... Hijil didn't think that her mother would like Bhima... but her mother liked very few things.

"We should find a stream." she said, changing the subject abruptly, "I think I did well with your hair, and you should see it..."

Though Hijil and her mother did not precisely live in the canopy itself, there was little risk of her falling. Despite her build, she was agile, born to the trees as any shifter was.

She smiled and waited anyway for Bhima to go down a ways before she followed suit. She knew she would always have her, just as certainly as she knew that she was Hijil and that the spiky frogs were Spitorogs. It was a fact, solid and immutable. Bhima was her friend, and that was not going to change.

After Bhima was clear of the tree's base, she let herself drop the rest of the way to the ground, her bare feet hitting the ground with a quiet, softened thud.

She began to walk towards the closest stream, her excitement repressed as usual, by her mild emotions into a small but honest and eager smile as she looked over at Bhima. "I think you will like it." she said, slightly nervous but pleased at how her friend's new braid looked at this angle.

Hijil beamed at her friend, blushing slightly. On any other, it would have been called 'just' a smile, but for Hijil, the toothy curve that opened up and lightened the closed, stony features of her face was a whole lot more than that.

"I'm glad you like it." she rumbled, delighted. "You see? This is a very different way to tie up your hair." her eyes glittered with a rare mischief, "I made it up myself, you know." she said, somewhat proudly.

”Mmhmm.” Hijil affirmed, pleased. She'd just played with it, and then she'd figured it out – it had been a fun idea, and she was glad that it had turned out so well.

It was like lightning, though. It was spectacular, but would it strike twice? That was a phrase that her mother used a lot: 'Don't count on Lightning striking twice.' she said often. Hijil guessed it meant that the same thing might not happen again, and they should prepare just in case. Usually, it was used about good things, like fish for dinner or a goldberry harvest or a story about papa. Today had been another event like that. Although her mother had not said as much, the day at the lake where her mother had been in a good mood was not something Hijil thought would happen again – not for a long time.

She hadn't actually seen a lightning strike, though – only ever flashes in the sky and rumbles of thunder. She trusted, though, that it did strike, and never twice.

Her mother, however, struck more than once. Sometimes several times.

”Hmmm...” could she teach Bhima how to do her hair this way? Did she remember how she had done it? ”I think so.” she said, thoughfully, ”We should find a bunch of vines, though, so I can show you.” yes. That might work.

Hijil took her hand without hesitation, holding it firmly. She looked at Bhima's braid, following the familiar contours that she herself had made with her own hands, admiring it. A thought occurred to her. “You know...” she said.. but almost as soon as she said it, she felt the need to retract it. “Never mind.”

But she knew that wouldn't do for Bhima. “I was just wishing that I hadn't let ma shave off half my hair...” she explained, “Then I could have a braid like that...” she smiled sheepishly, “But I like my hair this way.”

The jungle was full of vines, but, as they looked, Hijil couldn't see clusters that were suitable for a demonstration – they needed to be fairly flat and untangled. She was sure, though, that they would find something that would do well enough, and in the meantime...

This, just being together, was nice.

“Mmm.” said Hijil thoughtfully, following Bhima's gaze. It was difficult, of course, to follow an Alkidike's gaze – the lack of pupils made the direction they were looking in difficult to figure out. But Hijil had learned that the angle of the head and antennae told her more anyway. She looked at the clump of vines. “Could work...” she said, and she supposed it could. “Do you want to do that?”

Of course, that would mean letting go of Bhima's hand...

Hijil watched her climb the tree, not without some trepidation. She knew her friend could climb, but the extent of that climbing was yet untested. Be careful... she implored mentally, trying to keep her eyes on Bhima as she climbed into the dark branches above.

She laughed – partially in relief that it was only the vines that had fallen – and gathered up the vines. ”I have them!” she called, ”Should I bring them to you?”