She croons, and the colt is momentarily startled by the noise. It isn't a sound he's used to - it isn't the gentle whicker of affection he (albeit rarely) hears from his dam, it isn't the shrill whinny of fear or the scream of a battling stallion. It makes him think of his father's green, of the queer birdlike noises she made when she tied the amulet in his mane and the chirps of lament when she gave the beloved black egg to Nymeria. It confirms even more to him that Amaris is completely different to anything he's ever met, and a number of questions float around his head at what else is dragon about her. Can she breathe fire? Does she lay eggs or have live foals? Could she choose to mentally bond with a fellow Helovian? So many things the young titan hungers to ask, but he doesn't want to seem too eager, or to offend her with his incessant prodding. A few weeks ago he would have asked without a second thought, but thankfully he is finally beginning to develop a sense of tact.

He tears his gaze away from the preening dragons to focus on Amaris, ears pivoting to greedily drink in her words as she speaks. She tells him a tale - a tale of a stallion and a mare, lovers. To Volterra that means they must have stood for a while and decided to have a foal together so just like that it appeared in the womb - because that was how children were made, right? But all is not as it seems, and the colt's eyes widen in startled delight at the revelation that the female was, in fact, a dragon. Not just any dragon, but one larger than him, one that he would give his left hoof to meet and admire. "Woah," he says again. It is quickly becoming apparent that Volterra's fascination with dragons is bordering on an obsession. He simply cannot help it; he is so intrigued by them, so taken in by their beauty and their power, so hungry for their affection and, yes, their devotion. He wonders if Nymeria shares this obsession, given that she is lucky enough to have a dragon of her own, or whether it is just him, alone in his utter hero-worship of the scaled ones.

Maybe his father had got it right at their birth - there was something of the dragon about the twins.

The story continues, his crimson eyes still wide and childlike as she dips her head to his level. Again there's a barb about his size in her words, but he's too engrossed in the story to notice. Finally, the crux - the bronze dragon-horse had been her father, and that is how she is the way she is. Daughter of a hybrid - he wonders what her mother is. "Woahhh," he repeats, all semblance of eloquence lost with the sheer magnitude of his awe. "So you really are part-horse, part dragon? What was your mother? Did you hatch from an egg too? Do you eat meat? Are you going to eat me?" Questions he'd been trying so hard to smother suddenly spill freely from his mouth, although he manages to cut himself off before he bombards her with more. There's also a noticeable lack of fear about the possibility of being eaten; what a glorious way to die, to feed a dragon queen! The red and green are momentarily forgotten as all his boyish attention focuses on Amaris and her thrilling tale.