The foal's giddiness amuses me, and it almost looks like I'm about to smile. Almost, but as soon as the corner of my mouth begins to turn up, it falls again and I am unexpressive. I let Illynx take the lead as we meander through, and she begins to give me a tour. I didn't ask for a tour, I don't need a tour. I am the type that will explore on my own and learn the land as I see fit. But, I suppose understanding it from the perspective of the hooved kind works out well. The information about the caves, and what's more, the God of Spark, is useful and I may not have learned that all on my own. I am not sure that the God of Spark has very much to offer me, but I am young, and perhaps there are many things that I do not know about the God.

My shoulders roll easily as we travel, my strides as big as Illynx's. When the tour seems to be coming to an end, Rikyn jumps in, eager to recapture my attention. I give that to him, and let my eyes travel over him. Though his rambunctiousness is a little over-the-top for me, seeing as we are strangers, the information he provides is good. The note about the caves is good, too. Zima and I are used to living in a cave, and this shall be no different. Though, we may find ourselves more comfortable in caves that are intended to be inhabited. And the springs will be nice for me, at least. I enjoy swimming more than she does, and certainly the warmth in the coldest of seasons will be nice. My amber eyes light with optimism about this new living situation.

Rikyn adds a note that draws me from my musings. Watch out in the caves, because "some of us around here aren't very nice." At that, a deep chuckle rolls out past my lips. That does amuse me, and the foal's blunt and innocent honesty is refreshing. It's not that I think Illynx has been lying to me about anything, but she is a wordsmith and her foal has yet to learn this skill - or very much patience. I think that I may reply, but already another has joined us. A golden, horned stallion. Ah, the land of many unicorns. His pelt like the sun, his mane flaxen. One of those palomino types. I find them fanciful, but with his horns atop his head, perhaps he is not to be trifled with.

He gently scolds the foal gently, and turns his attention to the Queen and myself. His words are soft and enchanting as he introduces himself as Thranduil. I blink my eyes in acknowledgement, as is common for cats. "A pleasure." My voice rumbles. "I am Saffron." Introductions are simple and not burdened by fancy titles or words to entice and lure others. I suppose that's just how I am - rather straightforward and factual. But somehow, I don't think any of them will take offense from a tiger.

"Speech."