The nervous tones of the harp begin to settle, quiet, a background murmur mixed with the sounds of the waves and the crackle of lava as the seamists land upon it.

I am taller, larger, and more powerful than the girl who stands looking at me with judgmentally cool eyes. However, you would never know this to be fact, what with the pounding of my nervous heart in my chest, the jitter of my limbs, and the strangely acute feeling that she may attack me. Try though I might, I still cannot shake the feeling that this girl was out to get me. From the gruffness of her voice and words, perhaps I had actually been right.

We're not, the words cut across the air and slice a frown into my lips. I had not intended to upset her - only asking why a young filly like her would travel the world without her mother. Immediately I slip back from my position as her elder into a nervous twitch of the colt that I am. I remember being not much older than she setting out with Bear to tromp about in the world. These are not something I would compare to the golden crescent filly. Once my legs had straightened, I had been strong, healthy, lively, vibrant. Because of my lineage, my youth seemed to end very quickly. Muscles and height came quickly, swiftly placing me into a position where I could defend myself. Barely past my one year mark, my father had gifted me a task to keep the Helovians of the Wilds safe and fed. I did my best.

This girl, despite her frightening words and gross disposition, was small, tiny. Even the friend she referred to stood no chance against a bear.

The small fuzz ball looked about like a housecat, though I had never seen one at this point in my life. The only difference were the tails sprouting curiously from his hind. I only really notice how close the little devil had gotten when he lets out a compliant growl, agreeing instantly with his friend. I smile nervously, attempting to take a step back. The lavender lady's leopard came to mind, which she had warned had sharp claws and a knack of using them. If this small, many-tailed furball was comparable at all, I did not want him scratching me.

"Oh."

It's all I can manage for a while, eyeing them curiously. The harp begins to pick steadily heavier tones, as if encouraging me to speak. I turn my face toward it, looking at the vibrating strings of emerald vines, the white of the birchwood. Curiously, it zags about in the air, coming close to my face, almost nudging it. "What are your names?" I ask, looking from the small kitsune back to her gold splashed face. I expect her not to answer.