As the pony remains calm, the ghoul begins to relax. He had expected the nature of his father to frighten Wilibald, or perhaps provoke him in to a mad frenzy. This simple acceptance, while rather unusual, is almost soothing to the monster-boy. Maybe the pony came from a place where zombies were commonplace and complacent, and their offspring were considered horses rather than abominations. Mother had never told him of such a place in her countless stories, but she had neglected to mention small, fuzzy strangers as well. A simple oversight, he thinks, or maybe she was too busy telling him of other monsters and just never had the time to tell her macabre son that particular tale. She had known so many, able to raise him for a year without ever repeating a tale, except for his favorites that he had requested over and over.
Wilibald has a request, two really, and the unicorn ponders for a moment. He knows the answers, of course, assuming that the land hasn't shifted since his last visit, but knowledge is power. That was something his mother had taught him, both plainly and cleverly woven into several myths and fables. Should he share his power? He supposes it doesn't matter, for the chestnut could easily gain the same information from someone else. Besides, if he grants this boon, Wilibald will be in his debt. Not that the ghoul will ever collect, he's far too easily distracted for such things, but the idea appeals to him. "Helovia. Umm, that's the land's name. This forest is the Threshold. Thistle Meadow is west." He hesitates, hooves dancing slightly and stirring up the snow, coating his legs in white. He is restless, longing to resume his wild ramble through the trees, but he also wishes to be polite. Yes, his version of politeness can be odd, he knows this, but he tries.
Finally, he compromises, finding a solution that satisfies both urges. "I can lead you there, if you want."
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