Lochan had woken a little earlier than usual, in part at Ashamin's insistence. There is still sun to see, the painted buck had urged with a grin. Come, we must spend at least some time in this dying light.

Mere moments after his arrival by her side Ashamin heard the filly speak, and in a tongue he did not, could not, recognize. Each word, foreign in its making, had a pleasant lilt to it. He was drawn to the rhythm, and found himself wanting to hear her speak in such a way for so much longer than he did.

But he knew, when the moment was over and her language was replaced swiftly with his, that the moment had to have been a fleeting one. How could it have been so sweet, otherwise? His large ears tilted and his breath wandered away from him, hot and drawing closer to the filly. Would she feel it?

"You speak a beautiful language," the Haruspex said softly. Ashamin would cherish it. As he looked down at Lochan, who reached out with such a boldness to touch the filly whose nose drew quite close to his own, he knew that this sunset would be one to remember.

Her question was surprising only because of its wisdom--her tone, for the same reason. But Ashamin did his best to shake his shock from his expression, even knowing that she could not see it. He would do the same for anyone, and he knew that if he looked nervous or surprised, he could very well sound it, too.

"I worry for anyone wandering the steppe this late at night," he said plainly, suddenly aware of how his voice might sound to her. Was it high or low? And what would she picture from it? He straightened and cleared his throat almost silently, wondering if she would hear even that shift. Would she perceive him as self conscious, prideful, or rightfully strong? "You are no exception, young one," he added quietly, realizing he couldn't stop his voice from shaking even now when he tried so hard.

Lochan seemed to have no fear of the filly with the many horns. Not that Ashamin did either, but, well, he wasn't as sure how to react as Lochan seemed to be. The cerndyr had reached out and now parted his lips to breathe, soft, and bray ever so slightly. A mountain spirit. Surely it must have been Lochan this filly was sensing: Lochan, deer-marked young beast of the night. "I am no mountain spirit, child. Merely Ashamin, the haruspex of the Aurora Basin and a unicorn like yourself. Perhaps it is my cerndyr companion whom you are smelling?"

His long tail wound about itself and flicked, its awkward stringy hairs catching in the wind. He felt suddenly aware of how he was treating this filly. Was it any different than how he would treat another? He thought to Zahra, who had saved him in his time of need and now wandered alone, without his company. How had he let her leave like that, how had they even parted ways? It was difficult for the painted buck to remember.

But now it was night, in perhaps Helovia's sector, and the child he faced was one with a hindrance. Perhaps he did treat her differently, it could have been so. But never, never, would he treat her with any less kindness.

""

[[@[Himitsu]. 100 POSTS WHOOT!]]