'Luken?'

The beckoning vocals of his name were what snapped him from his troubled reverie, and the draft mutt glanced upwards, the large structure of his skull lifting up and pale ears swiveling forward to listen. Who...? Ah. That's right. Orangemoon was upon them, and with it, patrols began. Honestly the young stallion was eager to begin his patrols, his training sessions, because with such active field experience he could better hope to follow in the hoofprints of his father.

Turning his large and cumbersome body to follow the sound of the male who had summoned him, Luken slowly made his way to the Sergeant that beckoned him, steps slow and leisurely, black and white musculature rolling with grace, and holding the slightest visage of a limp. The mark of the Sun upon his right shoulder burnt somewhat strongly, but it had become a familiar ache, a familiar, painful reminder to the quest that he had yet to fulfill. Maybe, just maybe, he would some day.

For now, however... Duty called.

"Sergeant?"

The question escaped the youth's pink-hued lips, a look of questioning curiosity shining within Luken's chocolate orbs. Stepping through the trees and approaching the remnants of the Glass Wall, and with it, the shorter, spotted stallion who he was assigned to patrol with, a smile spread upon the Acolyte's face. His expression showed eagerness, yet understanding. This wasn't a time to play or joke around... This was serious. These patrols promised safety to their herd, to the Edge, and that was never a laughing matter. Still... The colt in him couldn't help but shiver with excited anticipation.

"Fiore, correct?" An ear cocked forward in question. They had never spoken face to face, but had only seen one another in passing. "A pleasure to actually meet you, Sergeant. Er, well... Meet and speak, I reckon you could say." A warm, good-natured chuckle left the depths of the painted mutt's chest, a rumbling, soothing sound.

"So, um... How does one see to patrols?" A possibly idiotic question, but curiosity couldn't help but get the better of him. "Do we simply scout for mischief or trouble?" Because that's what he had always imagined... But imagination and hard, cold facts were two terribly different things.

@[Fiore]