She does not hear him over the sound of her voice, the sound of the rain, and the hush of the forest floor.
His body is too small to capture the attention of her eyes, but he does not remain a mystery forever.

Weight appears on her flesh in the form of invisible strings from the tiny, darkset eyes of an inky shadow.  The weight is tiny at first, not able to permeate through Zyanya's wistful thoughts of rain and distant valleys.  The longer she remains, slowly waltzing through the forest with her head in rainclouds and long passed days, the heavier the feeling is.

Finally, something in the back of her mind calls for her to turn her head, to look at her surroundings.  Her eyes graze over the summer spent brush and trunks of trees, until a dainty figure draws her attention.  A slight, obsidian ghost lingering a few paces behind her.  The song in her throat pauses, and she halts, turning her whole figure to fully view her new company.  A smile finds its way to her lips without thought or reason, but the child seemed... hesitant to approach her, at the very least.  Perhaps, a bright light of a smile could render his doubts useless.  Somehow, she could not be certain it would.

"Hello," her voice raises gently above the thrum of rain on bark, "little stranger."  Other than Kiada and Kianzo, Zyanya had never met a foal in Helovia.  Unlike the twins which had reluctantly stood by their mother, this one seemed much more reserved.  A kindred soul, if she would be so bold as to think such of someone she did not know.  "I am Zyanya."

Looking out over the forest, seeing the wavering boughs of trees in the wind of the storm, the pale girl attempts to think of conversation fitting a child.  She cannot quite fit the bill.  Instead, she slinks back into old habit, drawing upon the conversational standby of small talk.  "The rain is a nice reprieve from this summer's heat, hmm?"  The question raises slightly as she turns to look at his black figure, noticing for the first time isolated islands of white in the great expanse of darkness.  They remind her of a very solemn night sky, or the view obscured by many trees.

The imagery resonates with the posture of the boy in front of her beyond just coloring, though Zyanya cannot quite place why.  He looked lost, and maybe that is why he trailed so silently behind her.  If she peered inward, the mare might find him to be more of a comrade than any she had met thus far in Helovia.  At least, that is how it appears at the surface of things.

""