She asked, "The Vale?", but he just smiled. It was not for speaking of right now, right here, balancing on sharp edges and hovering over steep falls - nor when the tongue produced only a jumbled mess. Besides, how could he possibly explain his home like this, unprepared? The geography was simple, the culture now, but was the geography really simple? Could he just say "a valley and a mountain range with ledges"? No - how could he possibly describe the brilliance of the grass and the forest, deep green, emerald, with such light tones tossed in that it all seemed alive, a spectrum of colors? The water had been impossibly blue, cold and clear, and the birds had sung such sweet songs, welcoming the sun as it rose above the horizon... A sharp stab of homesickness nearly stopped him dead in his tracks, but he swallowed the burning lump in his throat and walked on. How were is parents doing? And old Menth? The colts he had played with when he was young, had they found lovers and settled down, perhaps raising young of his own? They'd be some five-six years old too by now, old enough to have colts and fillies the age they'd been back then...

He hadn't expected this - nearly dying, being saved by Onni, and then having the first and greatest bout of homesickness ever. Nor had he expected the twinge in his heart, the painful throb, at the thought of his agemates back home having little colts and fillies, watching them play, learn, grow, explore... Moth had never been too fond of foals, but.. but.. if he had one of his own... He didn't want to deal with the miasma of emotions, the storm of it clamoring in his head, and if the spring hadn't come as a timely distraction, he probably would've tossed himself off a cliff.

"Oh," he said, water dripping off his chin and falling onto the rock floor in front of his dark hooves. Well, tried to say; it came out like a croak, and he hastily cleared his throat. So his lack of flowers wasn't entirely his fault then. Still somewhat, well, embarrassed by his own state and his fluttering heart, he scraped one dark hoof across the rock floor. Her statement made him think it wasn't usual for that half-remembered field to be such a graveyard. Something had clearly grown there to begin with, healthy and abundant - how else could it have wilted, if it had never grown? Shyly he looked up at her, his thick forelock obscuring much of his face. "What happened?" Words came easier, sounded smoother, but the lightness in his chest remained, as if butterflies had taken up residence in the muscles of his heart and in his belly. But they were warm, and soft, but that didn't stop them from exploding each time he looked at her, her smile, her eyes.

He turned his head aside, intending to survey the surroundings, but his gaze lingered on her and the finch, watching them from the corner of his eye; the bird seemed happy, curious, watching him with small eyes. Moth let his gaze leave it, settling instead on the cliffs. He doubted one drink would do him much good in the long run, and whatever energy Onni had infused him with was sure to wear off... Wasn't this as good a place as any to stay for a while? If there just was shelter somewhere... His eyes spied a likely looking crack of sorts, the kind that was narrow but usually opened up to a wider cave. He started in its direction, motioning for her to follow, and trying to ignore the feeling seeping through his body. Back in Isilme, he'd come to admit to himself that he liked her, and he'd even admitted it, picking flowers for her; but then he'd spent nearly a year away... A year with shamans, awakening the powers in his blood, a year of not being sure she was alive... If she belonged to someone else in her heart. She was a sweet mare, and her shy, beautiful smile had charmed him the first day they'd flown side by side. She'd been awkward in the air - was she still?

What had she been doing? Obviously she'd thought of him, at least a little, but then given up. Would he have done the same? Of course, he could've just tracked her down, seen if she lived or not, but... He gave his head a shake, and poked his muzzle into the darkness of the cave mouth. Not wide enough for two horses side by side. Even when squinting he couldn't make out the interior, but decided to test his luck. The worst thing to happen was that he'd have to back out. Pressing his wings to his sides, Moth stepped into the muted darkness, passing a narrow tunnel and into the belly of the mountain. It slanted downwards slightly, and was pleasantly cool - slightly humid, but not in the sticky way as it was outside. The added moisture of his breath saturated the air, and a cloud rose in front of his muzzle with each breath. The rock had trapped the chill, refusing to be warmed by the air outside; the opening not wide enough to allow the heat to fall down here. True, he couldn't see shit, but he spread his wings to get a feel of its dimensions. Certainly large enough for two horses here - no spring, though, but it was not far to go out for a drink. He turned, watching the light at the end of the tunnel. It wouldn't be hard to know the way out.

"It's large enough, and cool," he called out, voice bouncing on the walls. "But I can't see a damned thing." Then he fell silent, realizing he'd not told her why he'd gone in, what his purpose was. He blushed in the darkness. "I, uh - I figured whatever you did would wear off soon enough, and I - I don't fancy sleeping out there in the heat, and it's, this is not far from the water." The fear of appearing a fool in front of her made his words rushed and slightly garbled, but... Well. Too late to take it all back now. In the dark he waited, waited for the speck of light to be blotted out by her shape.

( Moth the cave troll. )