When Uncle asks me where momma is, there is a certain tone to the way he says it that makes my ears fall back ever so slightly and my eyes broaden, mostly because I’m not sure how I should approach this situation. He sounds… less than amused, I guess is how I’ll word it, and in all honesty, I don’t know where mom is – though it’s probably somewhere, looking for me. A quick glance over at Aithniel verifies that she’s not sure of the direction this is going, either, which leaves it to just me.

A broad, childish smile expands on my lips, one dark shoulder rolling in a dismissive way. "Probably looking for me," is my roguish reply, toothy grin fading as I looked around me in the sudden realization that she could discover us here at any moment, "why?" The question is returned to him as my eyes fall back to the large stallion before me, one hoof digging at the dirt before me as reality, the truth that I will have to find momma at some point, begins to find its first foot holds in my games of escape. "I can find her, if you need her for somethin’," I begrudgingly admit, thinking to myself that I would likely only have to throw myself down and have a fit and she’d come running with fear plastered all across her stupid face for my efforts.

It wouldn’t be hard.

Uncle Torleik, I notice, has good advice; where I mindlessly quip my love at my sister, he gives her solid truths to build herself around. I listen, too, not wanting to miss any lessons Aithniel had but also wanting to make sure that he wasn’t trying to take advantage of her; momma warned me that many here won’t be nice to my Thistle Babe, and that they will make her cry and will trick her into unkind things. But Uncle seems kind, and the words he shares make sense, at least in a way. It was a lot like a nicer version of mother’s be yourself no matter what anyone thinks stories, less involved around one’s selfish desires and focused around the emotional qualities of a person.

I blink slowly in response, not really sure what to say when comparing such two different moral lessons.

Selflessness? Did that mean choosing someone else over yourself more often than not?

What a terrible notion that was; you’d never get anywhere in life with that sort of attitude. Sure, I felt some degree of giving when I looked at the girl alongside me, or when with my friends or family, but to always be the sort of person to think of how it would benefit others rather than myself?

Suddenly I find that I’m watching my hooves while my head churns away at this new information, suddenly a caricature of my father as the wheels of knowledge click and whir within my brain, picking apart every small facet of what he had just told Aithniel and myself until it fits in with all else that I know.

It takes some time.

When I’m praised for knowing of companions, I do manage to escape my ruminations long enough to flash a proud smile at Uncle and another look at Aithniel, to make sure I hadn’t wounded her feelings. Instead, she’s sharp as ever with her own retorts, and I smile all the more broadly that she is always so quick and distinct in her decisions in ways that I can dwell on them for weeks and never truly have an answer, unless that answer was solid fact.

When it comes to me, what I feel, what I want, and what I need – I’m not so sure. Maybe Aithniel being alone so often has given her more advantages than I might have thought.

As I look at her with an almost sad expression of realization, a paw suddenly thumps against my nose, the tingling sensation ripping a sneeze from deep within my lungs and making my back end rise from the ground in the sudden motion. Overly cross with this display of absolute idiocy I’d just been forced to put on in front of people I was trying to impress, my tail slashes with annoyance until I note the playful stance that Irelyn has taken, how she tempts me into her game – and while I’m pretty sure that I’m being gotten rid of by the way Torleik eyes me (momma gets rid of me fairly often for her private affairs she doesn’t want me to know of), it seems just as entertaining to play with the griffon as it does to eavesdrop.

Aithniel will probably tell me what he said later, anyway.

With a feigned snort of savagery I plunge away from my Uncle and sister, playfully swatting at the griffon with my tail as I trot by, occasionally parrying her swats with a small, partially formed and knubby gold and black horn.