A God of Sun? "There's...a God of Sun?" What in the name of all things holy? The humans had often spoken of a God, and Badger himself knew of the sun that rose and fell on the horizon and brought the seasons with it, but to combine the two? Odder and odder. Again he reminds himself he must keep an open mind - everything here is different. He might be scared, he might want to tuck his tail and flee back to the comfort of a humanized world, but he knows he must come to accept his new life and his place in it. Horns, wings, fire-creatures, Gods of Suns...he must digest them all and try not to let his utter horror and confusion show.

Laedere mentions a cave, and Badger could well have broken the land speed record to get to it if he'd known where it was. He nods vigorously, waiting for her to lead the way, his ears fixed on her as she mentions a herd. Another shudder wracks his frame and his eyes wobble in his head, but he fights to keep his nervous reaction under control. He's frightened, naturally, but he knows it's for the best. "Y...yes, I think I would like a herd. Can you tell me a bit about yours?" He's painfully aware he knows next to nothing about wild herds, because all he knows are human-created ones of geldings, mares and the occasional foal. His instincts - buried deep, deep down in his genetic makeup - tell him of stallions and their harems, of strong kings who fall to stronger and of bachelor colts roving like bands of brothers until they monopolize their own mares, but maybe even that is different here. How will he fit in?

But he can't worry about that, because it's a better alternative to starving out here alone. He looks back to Lakota to cheer himself up, a smile still twitching at the corners of his mouth at her question. "I love them," he enthuses, boyish exuberance etched onto his face. "The bond between dam and child...there's nothing like it. I'm sure you'll be a fabulous mother, miss. Are you hoping for a colt or filly?" Maybe deep down there's a part of the man who longs for a child of his own - not through any particular natural urge, because that was snipped away with a few expert movements of a vet's hands, but because he genuinely adores youngsters and their innocent, expressive ways. He would love a little one of his own to nurture and teach...well, teach what little he knows. There's a small note of sadness in his eyes as he looks at Lakota's lovely bulge, but it quickly disappears to be replaced by genuine happiness. She is blessed, and he doesn't resent that.

He follows the two mares eagerly, not just because he wants shelter but also because he finds he enjoys their company, frightening as it is. Seeing Lakota in her normal equine, pregnant state has given him hope that there is normality here, some little piece of home in this far distant land. Lakota speaks of Falls and Throats, and Badger listens with pricked ears to try and glean as much information as he possibly can. If he is to join one of these herds, he needs to know what he's signing up for. The notion of a winged herd is mildly terrifying, but...maybe if he slaps on some feathers they won't notice?