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"You are loud."

It was a statement perfectly free of judgment, scorn or dislike, unbiased - if perhaps a tad amused. It fell from the lips of the tall young stallion that had passed by on the other side of a cluster of trees, initially intent on ignoring the stranger but quickly abandoning that plan when he was spotted.

"Did no one teach you to introduce yourself before asking questions?" A trace of a teasing smile flitted lazily across sooty lips, flighty as a butterfly in a whirlwind - there one second, gone the other. Cathun turned away from the winged steed and returned to his search, eyes trailing over the ground as he slowly took a step this way and that, calmly retracing his steps.

"Have you seen a pendant somewhere around here?" he asked, rather absent-minded as he traipsed around, nose close to the ground and the big grullo body zig-zagging around the trees, seeking out a patch of ground that appeared to have been burning not too long ago. "It is a fine stone, red and yellow and shaped like a tear, with a clip on it... I must have dropped it before."

Speaking of fire - it flickered in the eyes of the youngster every time he opened his eyes, glowing red-hot in the shadow beneath a ridiculously long, elegant forelock that mingled with the loosely tied together mane. Behind him a similarly excessive tail dragged over the ground, fine as a bridal veil and carried with all the careless elegance of a true diva. It might have appeared ridiculous, if not for the hot embers that crackled and snapped as they fell from the frosted curls - like sparks from burned out charcoal and ash.

"Help me find it, stranger. If you do I will answer your questions." Cathun looked up, flaming eyes trailing over to the yelling brute - it was a demand rather than a question, determination and and the calm confidence in his voice granting the words more weight and authority than a barely grown colt ought to possess.

An excellent way of conserving energy, if he could say so himself. While Cat had gone through the effort of trekking all the way back to the Threshold from the southern desert to retrieve his missing item, he wanted to spend as little time in this forest as possible. It had a way of creeping him out, the tingling sensation of foreign magic seemed to grow stronger here (or maybe it was just because this was the place where he had experienced the phenomenon first). Irrational, ridiculous even, but he couldn't shake it, nor the feeling of being watched. Too many horses traveled through these parts, there were too many tracks on the ground and scents in the air for him to be comfortable.

But he wanted his pendant, and while he might not care to admit it to anyone else his spar against the Sultan had made it painfully clear that the son of the Silverthorn was in need of exercise. Stamina, building muscle, honing every part of the body - it was the job of a warrior, and as shitty, dirty and sweatily bothersome as it might be, he craved the recognition that without fail came to any successful soldier.

As for the price... Nothing in this world was free, and he was willing to pay if it meant he would be able to live a little longer, a little fiercer, more freely.


@[Baratheon]