"Mother, what's a dragon?" I ask curiously, looking at the silver egg as she attempts to describe its significance to me. I simply cannot wrap my head around what she was talking about, despite my intense interest in her words. I was still a novice in the world, even if I had a hunger that would likely correct this issue. My heart still earned to know more, even if I was so shallowly familiar with the world in which I lived in.

Mother seemed pleased with her win for Ophelia, whatever was encased within the shell of silver. I give her a glance with bitoned eyes, trying to decipher her words that she spoke to me. I was quite confused what she meant by companion. Mother was my companion, was she not? I certainly could not imagine a world without her, but the implications of her words told me that she meant more than just someone by your side. My brows knit in exasperation, as I was not quite capable of realizing the bond between a creature and an equid. I did not even really interpret a difference between equine species, for my mother was still my mother, I just had extra features she did not. Our main bodies were the same, even if my legs were bent at an awkward angle. The idea that certain creatures could bond with certain species would never occur to me, unless I was explicitly told, which I was not.

I lean into mother as she lips my face, finding solace in the curve of her shoulder as we wait for Ophelia to arrive. My eyes roll forward over the landscape, noting with a pleased expression that much had not changed. Land was not a transient as water and light, it seemed, so I was well to recognize most of this land, even in the darkening of the world as night pulled across Helovia like a snug blanket. A glint of white captures my attention, and I notice with a small, quiet smile that it is Ophelia.

The two opposing eyes gloss over with heavy emotion that I cannot understand. I knew it was well that my mother had won something for her, but as to why this was an event worth a tearful 'thank you', I was not sure. My head curves to the side, little bumps of horns growing steadily from my skull as I stare at Ophelia. She was not sad, but tears were threatening to burst the dam of her lids, which was puzzling to me. Curious, curious that she was about to cry. Was a dragon really so special?

Her lips find her way to my head, and I turn it in false protest toward the affection I am shown. I look toward the ground as Ophelia speaks to me, emotion heavy laden in her voice. "I know," I say simply, glancing upward toward my mom's dark face.