A pale smile drifts across my face, quiet and subtle against the expression of understanding I struggle to maintain. Her intent desire to protect those she held dear was admirable, yet the shadow that passed across her pretty face led me to fear that her experience with the evils of the world was not to be taken lightly. It seemed that everyone in Helovia had suffered some heartache, too young and too soon. I would that I could have kept this child from seeing what she had, but I knew that was not possible.

I forced my sour mood away as she spoke again, smiling at the girl as she gives not only her name but lineage and sister, too. It was good, then, that she had the comfort of family - I could only hope, for her sake, that her Ktulu was as wonderful as my Mirage.

I listened to her tale, only the sound of whipcords slashing anxiously through the air as an interruption. What struck me as truly interesting was how she described her memory. The idea of such clarity, such constant remembrance and vivid imagery... "I can see how such a talent might serve as a double-edged sword," I murmured, curious to know more of this odd gift, yet grateful I could not relate. There were too many things I remembered as it was, too many faces, too much pain.

Darkened, saddened, I barely caught her question, her explanation on how she helped her sister. A barely perceptible start snapped my crown up, smooth motion raising me up to fuller height. "I came from many places before here. I have traveled a long time." There is some degree of weariness in my voice as I reflect on all my journeys, all the the joy and pain I had endured. I sigh deeply, turning onyx gaze back on the little mare, letting a tired smile return to worn lips. She does not need to see this.

"I suppose, if you search back through the years, I come from a place called the Path of the Moon." Oh, yes, the Path- how long had it been since I left that wonderful place? In some way, it was still home, for it was where I was born, raised. Gaze wanders, seeing something the filly could not, the full moon above desert sands, the softly flowing waters and my brothers racing ahead as I pursued them. "It is a land where the sun never shone. Can you imagine, little sleuth?" A faint smile threatens my composure, wistful and nostalgic. "I did not see the light of day until my second year."

A laugh tears itself from my lungs, sudden and soft, and I turn back to Ophelia with a rueful smile. "Perhaps I shall meet your family sometime. Do they all reside within the Throat?" Curiously, I tilt my head, inviting her to tell me more. I have enjoyed her tales thus far, enjoyed the quiet of her voice and the innocence of her youth. Already I could feel some attachment to the crimson kissed child, some sense of caring that was both pleasant and unfamiliar. Ophelia seemed the sort of child I might one day call a young friend.