Cirrus remembered the colts well, their life, their vitality. She remembered being the one to give them their first instructions on how to gain strength for flight - the images within her mind's eye triggered a nostalgic smile upon her lips. She wondered where the boys were -had they grown great and strong? Had they become competent fliers and travellers of the sky?

It was a moment, a flicker of emotion, that crossed the pale mare's façade. Barely discernible, hardly noticeable, it still gave Cirrus' thoughts on enquiring further about the boys pause - perhaps it was best left unsaid, unasked, so that the hurt their memories brought would remain just that single moment of uncertainty.

Cirrus knew what it was to lose someone near and dear, she knew even what it was to have one's own soul torn apart. When the cloudmare had first met Brisa, she had been that broken, crumbled being, barely capable of living; Brisa's boys had given her something to do, someone to instruct, a purpose however small and fleeting it had been. Cirrus' memories of Brisa and her boys was a happy one, and so she would not tarnish that by asking overly emotional questions - at least, not right now, not right away. Maybe, if they became better friends, confidants? They were herdmates already after all, bound to spend more time in each other's company more.

The idea of it all warmed what was left of the cloudmare's heart.

The cloudmare nodded at the other's assessment of the time passed - indeed, much time had lapsed between their initial meeting and today, and clearly much had conspired within both mares' hearts as well. Cirrus had found what she hoped was a purpose, an anchor, a reason to love and live again, and Brisa, much the same, only in the form of a young companion. A low, friendly murmur wuffled from her throat as she lowered her tiara to better view the young kitsune, to whisper her name playfully in greeting and laugh merrily at the young pup's antics.

"Glad to hear you're doing well," the girl says as her tiara rises to eye level once more, sincerity in her gaze and tones. Finally, she realised just what Brisa was doing, and looked in wonderment. It had always amazed her at just what the crafters of herds could create - Cirrus didn't have a creative bone in her body, aside from her own pelt being a canvas for the sky above, she knew nothing of art or construction.

"What are you building?" she asked, allowing the wonder to leak into her voice. "Can I help?" she seemed to add as an afterthought, an almost youthful, naïve enthusiasm entering her tones as she allowed some excitement to fill her - it was the idea of having a purpose again, something to do, some way to use her body for the betterment of the herd, her family, her people.

Cirrus the WindDancer