He simply doesn't know where to look - his eyes are torn between the dragons dancing above them, and the dragon-girl herself. The young mare seems to fold into herself, appearing more equine before him, and he finds himself disappointed - the emotion is shortlived, though, as her dragons begin to sing and she bristles. Before his very eyes she becomes a beast, a dragoness to rival his father's bonded, and he watches in awestruck silence as that deadly-armed tail thrashes and those powerful wings shift. Other children would cower, flee home to mother, perhaps, but not Volterra. He stands stock still, curious rather than afraid, obsessed rather than fearful, standing up straighter to get a closer look rather than crumpling himself in submission. Indeed, he is even so bold as to take a step closer, jaws hanging agape in delighted shock and nostrils flaring to inhale the scent of her. Fur and metal, hair and scale, leather and bone.. She is a delicious combination of all, and the memories that grow in his young head are certainly ones he will revisit and cherish.

She answers his question with one of her own, and the colt falls momentarilty silent, thinking. He does not want to reply with the first thing that comes into his head - a dragon - because he does not wish to appear stupid in front of his new idol, so he gives himself time to think. It is, after all, quite apparent that she is not fully dragon. His father's companion was scaled from nose to tail, and possessed claws rather than hooves; she was a good deal smaller than this, and her tail was tipped in flame. No, this mare certainly has something of the horse about her, and Volterra is not quite so stupid as to blurt out his initial reaction. It is even more apparent when the hybrid alters herself again, becoming less draconic and more equine, and once again he feels a tide of disappointment at how she suddenly seems less ethereal, less mystical.

There is still something supernatural about her, though, and she has those dragons above her at her beck and call. She has power, that much is obvious. From the young goliath's teachings, he knows there are gods here, omniscient creatures of the skies who bless their subjects as and when they desire. It is likely these gods who gave Nymeria her magic in the womb, these gods who decided the twin curled against her was not adequate enough to receive such gifts, and the colt can perhaps be understood for thinking it is now one of these gods that stand before him. After all, he has never met one, only heard tales of their splendour - and this right in front of him is the most godly thing he has ever seen. "A god?" His voice is as firm and authorative as he can make it, like he is completely convinced by what he's saying; he stands up that little bit straighter, wanting to appear strong in front of this goddess, in the hope she may bless him as other Helovians have been blessed.