Little defective colt unintentionally brings pain into the cavern, and does not even see it. He sees a certain subdued atmosphere settle across the two, stifling their insults and barbs, but does not understand its origin. The wistful look in the deformity's eyes and the painful sadness the king carry go unnoticed- he presses onward.

"How can one chase what is unknown?" Knox questions, ignoring Manhattan as she nuzzles his hock and attempts to get his attention- to tell him to stop. His eyes are filled with curiosity, his mind with hushed voices that mock the very idea of wanting such a thing. "Is the word of two jaded creatures such as yourselves truly the highest? There is innocence and ignorance, and then there is simply optimism- you lack both qualities, and I find myself unsure as to which I truly possess," the little colt muses, his eyes staring past Mauja and into the depth of the question. He feels not as if he is facing two strangers, but two ghosts. Their time trapped in this cave seems like hours- he begins to doubt their mortality, and yet he does not consider his own. The realization sparks another question. "Is selflessness a disinterest in one's being, or merely a lack of education on the matter?" he pipes up, unaware of the fact that he might be making his company tired with his pestering, and that his response may be no more than a bitter snap.

He watches the pair now wondrously; travels back and forth between the two so quickly that it becomes hard to see the difference. Is there really any difference? The old pegasus, stunted and broken, seems on the outside to be what the ice king hides, while the monarch's strength seems to rest deep within the soul of the monster. His blue eyes blink with a curious confusion, his hide twitches with both the cold and the dissatisfaction of not knowing so much. At his hooves Manhattan whines, curled up to defend herself from the cold and now gently biting the flesh around his right fetlock, her baby teeth dull and her gums itching with the pain that accompanies nervous teething. He does not consider how his actions, how his persistence, affects his charge.

He asks the pair of selflessness and practices the opposite. He is for some time completely unaware of Manhattan's actions- it is a stronger bite that pulls his consciousness reluctantly back to her, and curves his neck beneath his chest to invite her closer. She slides on the ice, making her way to her master's face slowly, whining as the cavern's surface fights against her. She is weak and small, helpless except under the protection of the colt. He nudges her now softly and affectionately in apology, love in his eyes without him even recognizing the emotion.