It becomes a clear ritual. The mare, the bird, the shifter, has burst her body and stands now a part of the earth. She has shut her eyes and maintained a mystery, moved earth and water, built and contained. And through it all, the hunter has been watching.

He smiles when the lid is lifted and shuts onto its container, but Knox isn't sure the smile is from himself. He looks down at his body, watching as it changes. Too weak to hold your brother at bay, Zekiah?

Silence, silence again. Little Zsoka's form overtakes the firmness of his elder brother and something like grief shuts the one eye into quiet. Zsoka is overjoyed to feel the earth beneath his feet, oblivious to his brother's pain at his every appearance. He jumps, gleeful, and kicks at the earth as he prances around and behind the shifting, building mare at Knox's gentle instruction. Behind and out of sight, the hunter coos to his littlest ancestor. He will let Zsoka have his play, but not at the risk of himself being revealed.

Manhattan follows Zsoka's weak little heels, playfully nipping as he moves quicker and stumbles over himself. Once far enough away, she watches as the hunter releases the last of his grip and lets the cape of shadow fall away from the Young. She remains beneath its shadow, thankful for its ability to hide another, and follows the colt with care.

Perhaps it is Roanne's own shock that exhausts Knox, or Zekiah's endless grief, but he is tired. Let the child have his fun.

Zsoka bounds forth as if appearing just now from the wood and trips, sliding dangerously close to the box just closed. He smiles widely and whinnies, his little tail dancing behind him as he lowers himself before the mare.

"You're a bird!" the young says. His voice carries a slight hint of jest, as if he is mocking another youth for something they bear that is unfamiliar. "You're a big, black, bird!"

His smile turns to a furrow and his head cocks with a wild tilt. His black eyes gleam with a question and his nose presses forward to investigate the mare.

"Didn't nobody ever tell you that eee-quines ain't supposed to be birds?" It is a serious question, for the little buckskin colt. Has anyone ever told this big huge mare with a face like a skull and a body like a vine that she is just plain weird?


[[Isopia SURPRISE YOU GET A LIL BABY THAT DOESN'T KNOW NOTHIN']]