Night wears on him. The distance stretches out from behind his hooves in long, immeasurable days and hungry miles. He should not have asked his questions; the answers drag on and his mind turns to restless buzzing. Struggling against the heaviness of his bones and his eyelids, he peers at Lena. Like a guttering flame, she somehow stills her brilliance, sucking it inward, silencing the buoyant syllables of her voice. So easily... Her very softness provokes in him the wariness she struggles to prevent. Caneo understands every other way of being, everything but that. Why are they so gentle here?

        With ears pricked to the sound of her voice, he turns over her question. “Dark,” he murmurs honestly, a faint smile teasing at his face but never blossoming. How should I find it? But something a little guilty writhes deep inside him and Caneo adds, “You are all very kind,” with the emotionless tone of mere observation. Perhaps he means it as a compliment; he isn’t sure. He begins to resent them both, these creatures lingering here, though in the same breath he wants only to crawl nearer Roland, the nearest thing he has to a friend in this bleak world, and do whatever the older stallion says. Or he wishes to flee once more, choosing the long, strung-out existence of his solitude over ever – ever – putting up with things like unicorns again.

        His brilliant eyes roll back toward the little animal again, watching in silence as she plays near Roland’s feet. The sight is... strange – unnerving in a way Caneo can’t articulate. It’s such a small thing... One slender ear cants back again to cup Lena’s explanation, the word kitsune giving at last a name to the in-between thing. A companion. Caneo’s head moves with a little jerk at that, a tiny motion – insignificant – except he stares at Imogen a little more keenly. “She’s your friend?” He inquires, surprise sharp in his voice. He blinks at Lena, head cocked. “How did you get her to stay with you? Can she talk?” His mind reels quickly over all the countless things he’s seen, the miles and the little animals, the other faces, the wind and the sand and the sun. Too many questions! He quivers with exhaustion and with wonder, wanting to know and wanting to leave, his frail body threatening implosion with the weight of this – all this.

        Roland speaks again and the boy glances up to meet his face. “Why don’t you have one?”