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The sand colored colt regards him for a moment, before struggling to his hooves. A cheery smile is pasted across his face, so at odds with the child’s predicament that it is almost unnerving. Teetering steps carry him closer to the bright stallion, and Lynx allows him the small victory of reaching his side unaided. To most it would seem an unimportant thing, but the small stag understands the value of pride, knows that if the painted foal can make it to him without any help it may bolster his spirit and grant him the slightest bit of strength. So he stands patiently, offering nothing but his presence.
Gangly legs give out from beneath the boy, but the fall is not a bad one, and he even manages to stutter out a greeting. Unable to speak, Lynx can only dip his crown in an acknowledgement of the statement. He continues to do naught but watch as the colt rises again, and this time he manages to finish the journey to press against his golden body. A slight whimper escapes as the child presses his small face to Lynx’s shoulder, and the disfigured creature twists his neck to gaze at the brown and white bundle. Why was he out by himself?
His little companion introduces himself as Cera, and asks who Lynx is. A question he has learned to reply to only recently, but one he is content to answer. A black-clad foreleg begins to trace out a shape in the sand, noticing the difference between drawing in the grains versus snow. The white fluff holds shape better, making his lines more distinct, but a simple picture is not overly difficult to make. The form of a compact feline, marked carefully with spots and a stubby tail, is slowly created. Cera may not know what a lynx is, due to the fact the elusive beasts chose to dwell primarily in mountains, but such things do not matter to the steed. He had been called by several different names in the course of his life, and should the pegasus add yet another to list, Lynx would readily respond to such a calling. After all, what is a name except a familiar sound?
Done with his rough sketch, he returns his attention to the youngling. Again, thoughts of the child’s parents cross his mind. Does the colt even have any? Surely there must be someone who looks after him, for how else would he have survived so long? Scents intermingle on the boy’s coat, various different horses of different races, yet none strike him as that of family. Maybe he has found an orphan. One smell is particularly strong however, a pegasus stallion. Perhaps that was the one who cared for Cera? He would have to be sought out later, once the winged foal regained his strength.
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Fragility and Freezing Cold [Open, Adults?]
