Smoke's tale of recently arrived Isilmians give Ricochet's heart a bit of a rise from the deep and dark place its sunken to. Although it's more realistic to think these survivors were hiding out somewhere beyond Isilme and just now getting to Helovia, as he had also been rather late in that regard, but he preferred to take her statement for the face value.

The dog's ears prick as Kimber speaks, but he cannot understand her voice. Her gentle tones help soothe him however, and the ease in which she handles the creatures suggests his own relaxation. As the duo hopped towards him again he held still this time, wet nose quivering as he extended it to them. He tried to breathe in their scent, but was doused with water. He spluttered and coughed, his nose burning as water shot down it. He pawed at his muzze in vain, sneezing on occasion. Guns decided he rather didn't like those ferrets after all. Excusing himself, he slunk to the other side of Ricochet, still sneezing at times.

Warm fur brushed the left heel of the dunskin as Guns sat beside him. He shifted his weight away from the dog as a reminder not to step on him, but Ricochet's attention remained fixated on Smoke. Leaving behind the troubles of Isilme, Smoke all to eagerly handed him new ones. "The Foothills..." he echoes after her, thoughtful of the new name of a promising new home. The dream is quickly shattered as Smoke continues, a grimace making its way onto the stallion's dark lips. It only continued to get worse... "A UNICORN!?" He shouted, anger flaring up white hot once again. Behind him a spurt of dust kicked up from Guns gave a small crackle. "She's forgotten the face of our father!" Ricochet raged, a forehoof slapping the ground as though it were Aerwen's face beneath it. He could not believe her, how could she piss him off when she wasn't even around, possibly dead!

He groaned at this thought, his temper simmering as sorrow doused it. A unicorn sire... but at least the colt was equine. The opposite of Evangeline's ordeal. Ricochet's teeth clicked in agitation, now enraged at himself for bringing up that damn mare again. I wish she was the missing one, the dead one.

He sighed, bitter and quietly furious. "I make no promises," he grunted in response to Smoke's requests. "Yet I've dealt with worse," Ricochet's voice grew softer. He'd decided not to kill Evangeline's foal, with its ugly, bastardly horn. He would hold to his word, though he regretted it now. Jackal at least would look fine, and Ricochet couldn't help but wonder if his blood would be alien. He'd need to find the boy and begin raising him right, Nieque knows what the child had been doing, given no guidence with his missing and corrupted mother.

Ricochet snorted. "Let's go home then," he responded grumpily. He didn't much enjoy the prospect of home being a place where 'he might run into the occasional unicorn' but if Jackal and Kimber were there then it was where he belonged. Over time, perhaps he could change the setting into one he more preferred, but a gut feeling told him it would be a lot to accomplish. This wasn't Isilme after all.

Ricochet was still Ricochet though, if perhaps, improved with experience and age, or so he liked to think. Volatile still, he had at least a shred of patience to spare. He did not however, have a good liar's face. His best bet would be to avoid all of the ugly races, he could not promise a lack of conflict otherwise.

"Well Guns, looks like we're in for another rough ride. Put on your happy face boy, that's the best way to eat shit." He murmured under his breath to the dog. The collie lurched to his feet, tail wagging happily and a conceding bark offered in response to the words he did not comprehend.