His thoughts are certainly on the wrong path, for lo and behold, a foal does come, a small fragile filly looking nearly sickly with the desolation and despair, the thoughts inscribed on her face. Hardly had the metal-bender heard her, so lightly did she step on the ground, alabaster hooves delicate over the emerald green grass. So small beside him, in front of him; flowers blossoming in multitudes around her hooves, springing up and twisting into a fantastic display of colors, impressive colors. Metal could be wrought and twisted, bent and hammered, but it would not change colors significantly, nor did it come in brilliant rubies and sapphires, pastel violet and cheerful yellow. She smells sweet, of flourishing blossoms and the stone-earth-grass of the Foothills homeland.

Argetlam's heart aches at the sight of her delicate face, which looks miserable for one as young as her. The crafter caught sight of her mahogany eyes, red-tinted; and he frowned slightly. Her praise stuttered, shy and fragile as herself, and the massive stallion stepped forward, gently reaching out to nuzzle her, tail sweeping over his flanks to drive away the flies, his muzzle rubbing her forelock. "Don't look so down." The massive stallion murmured, amber eyes gentle. Suddenly, as if feeling imposing himself upon her, despite his care not to damage the flowers at her small feet, he steps back hastily. But not a moment later a grin shifts his features, and the crafter turns hastily back to the mouse, working swiftly on the metal mouse he had left behind his platter-like feet.

For his concentration upon transforming the mouse into something, he almost entirely misses Nadira, the pale mare who appears like a sweet spirit in the cool morning air quickly heating. "That's not right," the stallion mutters, stamping a hind hoof, skin shivering over muscle thick and brawny, dislodging more flies. Flies were always at their worst this time of morning, buzzing about, biting and nipping and creating all sorts of itches. He tosses his head, tearing his amber eyes away from the small item, and catches sight of the pure white unicorn.

"It is well to meet you, Nadira." Argetlam says cheerfully, hoping the high spirits in his voice will get across to the little filly. Then his eyes drift back, and her voice becomes muted in the background. Scowling in concentration, he wills it to move, transform, break into two pieces of metal; one forms into a smooth ring, and the second into a thin strand that could fit around a neck, with a delicate, metal-wrought flower at the end. More minutes pass, Argetlam stomping a hoof on occasion to shake off the flies, his amber eyes studying the handiwork carefully, and then he gives a nod, and picks up the necklace between his teeth.

The necklace he carries to the young filly, carefully moves it over her head and lets it settle around her neck. He smiles at the filly, gently, hopefully, and introduces himself. "Argetlam, miss, and carry that round your neck and let it pick up your spirits, yes?" He turns on his haunches, eyes squinting to pick out Nadira's color-less form in front of the rising sun, and plucks the ring up in his, tilting his head just so that it fits over the mare's horn. It lies loosely on the tip, so she may shake it off if she chooses; or, if she wishes, she may toss her head up and it will settle down the pale bone. "And for you, Nadira, if you wish to keep it."

[If you feel like this is god modding, I can go back and change it!]