Ree.

The undeniable glee on the young mare’s face lights up her eyes, her expression warm and giddy as she watches each of Ink’s reactions with childlike candor; his surprise, his excitement, his radiant smile. Ree beams, feeling rather clever to have stunned him so, yet she finds herself being the one caught off guard when – with a simple flick of his tail – the obsidian stallion’s butterflies return. They flutter and twirl in a myriad of lovely, enchanting and beautiful shapes, dancing shadows against the red of the desert around them. She adores the little winged creatures, conjured as they may be, and she watches them flit about with undeterred captivation, all the while wondering what it must be like to fly on such delicate wings. She returns Ink’s smile, though she remains bashful and coy, timid as ever. She follows his gaze as he turns to watch Kaj, and she reminds herself that they are searching for something within the Heart’s sands. Ink meanders toward the winged stallion to investigate, and once more Ree watches as the butterflies disappear again, black rain onto the sandy soil around her hooves. She is sad to see them go, but the bay mare isn’t allowed to dwell on the thought for long.

She gives Kaj a peculiar look at his beckoning, but scoots forward with curious caution and an equally friendly grin. She is drawn to the benevolence they have given her, the kindliness they so willing portray, and it warms the flighty mare’s heart, settles her nerves and does well to soothe her sometimes fragile soul. Ree craves the sincerity of their attention, having been deprived and denied such affections as a filly. Kaj's encouragemant fuels her bravery, and she sidles up next to Ink as the pale Pegasus digs, careening her head at a comical angle in an attempt to see what it was that the two were looking at. Hazel eyes watch the scene before her with interest; she can hear the change of sound, shifting from the steady thud of a hoof unearthing dirt to the clear strike and muffled ring of something more. Her childish intrigue has the spritely nymph conjuring up vivid images of grand gems or rare jewels, some hidden treasure long hidden beneath the sands of time, and she wonders what they might need such an object for, and what its purpose will hold.

While the two stallions are distracted by their task, at least momentarily, Ree glances at the lanky boy next to her. His silence is unique, and she ponders how he came to be this way, or if it is how he has always been. She thinks of his pictures, how she is charmed by how lovely they are, and envious that he is able to bring them to life. Like an impatient youngster she almost catches herself staring, waiting eagerly for Ink to display his artistic prowess for them again, and doing a horrible job of remaining inconspicuous. Pulling her eyes away from the obsidian boy, she glances toward his winged friend, ears flickering towards Kaj as she glances between his welcoming eyes and the hole he has dug, an unspoken question. What was it?

She doesn’t realize that she has fallen easily into their habitual lack of talking, conversations and explanations without words. She quite likes the silence, the air filled only with the gentle sound of their breathing, the warm Heart wind that tousles her messy ebony locks against the bronze of her coat, and the distant trill of desert birds roosting within the tall grasses. Her previous misgivings of wandering away from the Throat have vanished from her mind, and she revels in the company she has found, overjoyed to feel accepted into their syndicate of silence. Her naivety and youthful innocence most often suspend her in a childishly awkward world of quiet reservation and timidity, but standing beside Ink she feels less uncertain than she has before. The usual lingering traces of panic and worry that would sometimes seize her thoughts have been pushed to the furthest recesses of her mind, and for once she stands in complete satisfaction, content to spend the afternoon with the two stallions so long as Ink continued to draw and paint for her.