Harley wasn't sure if it was polite to watch the healer work, but he glanced over every now and then, intrigued by the process. It must be unpleasant to lick wounds, he thought. He couldn't stand the smell of blood himself, never mind the taste. Alija spoke once more of the Dragon's Throat, and of the Threshold.
"I don't want to be a loner any more," Harley said in response to her suggestion of him being a wayward young male. He tried not to pull a sceptical face at the mention of family. Dragon's Throat sounded rather sinister. Harley didn't know many stories about dragons, but he was fairly certain they were predators. Why would anyone want to live in a place that reminded them of a great firebreathing beast's gullet? He watched Cheveyo out the corner of his eye. She seemed a little exasperated with her company, in a good-natured sort of way, shaking her head at them.

The stallion looked to Cheveyo as she addressed him once more. World's Edge didn't sound much better than Dragon Throat; why did everything sound so life threatening? But there was a certain appeal to it. He just wished he knew where everything was. The stallion opened his mouth to ask more questions, but flinched at a violent clap of wings. The jewel-coloured mare seemed to have lost patience with him. Given she was still bearing a nasty scratch, perhaps she was just having an awful day and was done trying. Or maybe she was always like this. Either way, Harley was none too endeared by her invitation. She'd clearly been irritated with Alija from the start, and was losing her temper with Harley for being lost, despite all of the mares seemingly being in agreement that lost horses wandering around the threshold was a relatively common phenomenon. Perhaps she would have been beautiful to him, had she not borne an ugly sneer and an uglier disposition for the majority. If she had been trying to play nice before, she hadn't hidden her snide expression very well, and she certainly wasn't trying now. Harley doubted he'd be taking her up on her offer any time soon.

Since his decision had been narrowed down to between Cheveyo's herd and that of the peacock mare, surely it was Alija who was out of the running, not Bellona? Perhaps she'd just had enough of the matter entirely. Oh well, it was clearly no long his problem. In a way, she'd made his decision for him, because as nice as Alija was, it was Cheveyo who was making the most sense.
"Please," he began, "What are these places like? I grew up on a green moor near the sea, I'd like something that reminds me of home. I'd like to be out of this forest as well." His anxiety hadn't improved, the trees still loomed in a threatening manner.

OOC: Fzzzzt. Bang. Writing muse is kaput. I'm sorry :(