She wishes she could burn it all away. She would burn herself if it would save the child- but fire dancer knows that the point is moot, that she cannot erase this girl's past any more than she can erase her own. She wants to cry out when the girl's lips part once more, to sob that no, she does not know her mother, and that if she had she would force the errant mare to answer for her crimes. Why are so many abandoned, lost? Why do so many children wander; why do so many parents fail?

It is a shock of light on a winter day, freezing water in a summer sun, when the realization finally dawns, nearly three years too late. Despite the trails that have gripped her, despite the fear she has faced, the girl is fortunate, moreso than most, for she still has the searing warmth of a million memories, all of a family which loved her more than life itself. She has the face of a mother, the touch of an aunt, the tales of uncles, the laughter of cousins... She has a world where everything was bright, carefree, joyous, where the only darkness that could touch her was the dark mystery of a loving moon.

She would give anything to recreate those memories for this child. She would trade all her happiness, to see the emptiness, the anger in those silver eyes snuffed out. But the girl knows she cannot. All she can do is make it better from here.

The boy waits for some sign of acknowledgment, and when there is no negative reaction he takes it as a positive sign, an indicator that he is not going to be burned, or blasted, or hit by whatever magic the child holds. Comically over-sized ears lift up, and are immediately buffeted with a painful blast of cold. He squeaks, drawing back into himself, falling dramatically onto his back mere footsteps away from the ashen child. Gold eyes flick from sister to youth, as he waits for some response to his display. He hopes he can distract the girl, enough to soften the next blow.

"No."

The alto voice is gentle, but honest- no, they truly have no idea. Not of the mother, not of the father... but maybe it is even better that way. Maybe the mother is better unknown, for if she is capable of committing such sins, does that not demonstrate clearly her fitness to love, or lack thereof? Natraj is not so convinced- Maybe deserves another chance, the boy suggests through their bond. We do.

The girl shakes her head, braids dancing in the winter air. It's different. You know it. At least we tried.

She forces a smile back onto her face and fidgets, trying to find comfort in the painful chill. When she speaks again it is louder, a forced confidence that barely hides the painful beating of her heavy heart, the towering anxiety that fills her ears. "You could come home with us," firedancer says gently, an unconscious emphasis placed on the word home. She does not know where the child has lived all this time, but certainly that place cannot be home- not to a firebird such as this.

Slate hooves shuffle as she prays for the yes. Even if the girl says no, well... Fire dancer sets her teeth. She will not lose the child again, no matter how long it takes to get her back. If ever she had a battle worth fighting, the copper child knows that this is it.

@[Aithniel]