She follows; slowly, languidly, in the painted mare's wake, a shadow with no purpose but a desire to know more. She does not realize her pursuit; it is not an conscious thing, merely a meeting of paths, a similar destination for dissimilar purposes. Kahlua seeks the Veins to find comfort in the company of others, while Tandavi pursues them to find the solitary safety of stone spires and Gods.

Nimble feet sketch a well-worn path, the kitsune a leaping shade beside the vibrant fire child. The pair exchange fleeting thoughts, both embroiled in a sea of contemplation but neither, for once, bogged down by despair. Tandavi thinks of Caneo, and the warmth of having someone to truly call friend. She thinks he is blue like the lava which falls away into the sea beside her- not quite fire, but still something hot. There's more, she knows, which she does not know, more secrets behind the azure eyes. She wants to learn them all, one by one, but she's afraid they won't have time.

She has found that everyone leaves, eventually.

A figure at her feet makes her stumble and start; Natraj glares up with care in his eyes, silently chiding her for the trail of her thoughts. No sad, he scolds, and she nods her agreement, the line of a smile curling upward at her lips. "No sad," she agrees, reaching down to bump his hip and send him sprawling in the dust. He is so very small, but he doesn't mind, merely rolls back up and strikes at her face, leaping onto the messy forelock and carefully walking down her neck. She knows she needs to be stronger for him. She knows he misses them all, too, despite his desire to hide it from her.

They reach the crest at the tail end of the conversation, taking in the voices (mostly voice) of the two adults. They come into view a moment later, an unfamiliar bay and a paint she can remember, a mare whom she had seen at the gathering, speaking after to the Earth. Curious ears sit forward on her poll, bright black eyes cautious and alert. She hears something about containers, and lids, and a problem settles like a puzzle in her mind, begging her to solve it and taunting that she can't.

Her black voice floats on the frigid air, toward the mismatch pair of equines. "Build a top," she suggests softly, wondering what could have made her speak. The idea of introduction nags gently at her mind, but she ignores it as she often does, too caught up in a new idea to worry about things like social etiquette. The faint tones of strange music are beginning to rise into her ears; she steps forward, carefully, craning her head to see what lies in the pretty basket the mare holds. Why not simply put something on top? The solution seems simple. She wonders if there's something more.

Natraj does not share his input; he is too busy staring at the little blue, his heart racing and aching to play, to explore. It reminds him of Akiath and their cousin's summons and Kali and every winged creature he ever loved. He used to believe he might one day be a dragon, but both boy and his sister had quickly realized they were very different from their kin.

Tandavi