In the silence that lay before the splashed and the ebony brute Anzanie felt peace for once in a long time. There was something that felt so nice about standing with Sacre, the stranger who had so quickly become herdskin and a friend, a brute that appeared so meaningful and genuine in the short space of time they had stood together. The waves crashed gently against the shore whilst they remained in their silent bubble, and she smiled when she saw the ruby-tinted stag smile at him.

It was no lie that she loved the Edge and everything that she had come to learn about its ways, its culture and the creatures that roamed here. Of Helovia she knew little else, but she longed greatly for a large family, or at least to be a part of one. Her purpose in life was to be back within a unit that she had long been a part of in her former life. But she was struck back to earth by Sacre's sweet tones persuading her to see that the Edge was indeed her family now. She gave a half-hearted smile at him whilst her pools gave away a slight sadness. Anzanie understood that he was trying to be friendly, and she sincerely appreciated it from him, the warmth welling up inside her, yet just as she had thought, she needed a proper family,
"I know you are right, Sacre. I think perhaps I am needing something that no one may never give me, a family of my own, but the World's Edge is as good as," she felt like she was unable to say much more without sounding like a broody mare.

And then the words had moved back into the topic of crafting. Anzanie was told that she was too nice to Sacre, and that she knew was not true - he deserved it. His laughter was contagious and thus her own sadness was shook away as she laughed too, her high pitched voice replying, "I speak the truth! You would not have been given the position if you were not as intelligent as you are."

Her thoughts were soon filling up of crafting, a position she had had since she had pretty much joined in the ranks of Helovia. And her love for it was mutually shared by the handsome and sweet Sacre, something that she was so grateful for. It was as if in her dire need for company she had been granted a brother of some sorts, one that was able to bounce off her own personality. And in this bubble once more they were able to share more, with Sacre giving information to the lobes of Anzanie that were pricked for anything that he said. He was a part of the Dragon's Throat, Cera's herd. Misael's herd. The splashed wondered what it must have been like in the deserts of the Throat, especially with metal in the searing heat of Tallsun. She felt curious, and so decided to ask, "What was it like, in the Throat? I'm afraid I don't know much about the herd. But I would like to know this, if you feel it is okay of me to ask: what made you leave that herd for this one?" She smiled with genuine interest for the brute's history, but couldn't help but feel slightly apprehensive that she was being nosey.

"No you're not going to win!" Her girlish laugh trickled through her chest as she felt the smile of humour over her velveteens, and she went to push his shoulder with the side of her cranium playfully, making sure not to allow her large spiralling horn to pierce his bodice, "we can indeed be equals, Sacre," she hesitated as her laugh died down, letting her be more serious for one moment, "I'm very glad to have you here today by the way, thank you."

Their conversation staying true to the topic of crafting, Anzanie had given her account of what it was like to craft with glass, and Sacre's input allowed Anzanie to converge further about it, "It's an incredible feeling. It is as if I were nursing a tiny baby woodland creature with the power of a tree, strong and indestructible! Is that what it feels like when you were crafting with metal? Or would you say that being a nurse is more fulfilling?" Her words were curious once more. Sacre was intriguing.