Zèklè liked the way she grinned, small white teeth flashing behind inky lips. It filled him with something akin to pride, to know he had put the smile on her face. Part of him wanted to keep her, almost, to take her home and show her to Ma - look what I found! - but he was well aware of the impossibility of such a task, the silliness in the idea of keeping another thing, especually a little girl like this. She needed her Ma, not some kid, some half-child with a missing wing and a crooked smile and a metal side.

Still, he supposed, it wouldn't hurt for him to look after her while they waited for a Ma.

When he turned back from his furitless search Zèklè was surprised to find the girl half-aloft, risen onto wobbly forelegs, though her white hind end didn't seem entirely committed to standing. The shift revealed her companion further, a little white pup with orange ears. He nodded, understanding the message about eggs- he knew what companions were, after all, even if he wasn't sure how he felt about the bonds they shared. Ma always said that holding companions was like keeping a slave, chaining a soul to a fate they could not choose... but as he looked at Zah-a through sunbeam eyes, Zèklè couldn't imagine the adorable, innocent creature before him capable of such cruelty. Besides, lotsa people had companions, and they seemed perfectly okay with them, and, and...

It was all very confusing for a boy like him, and he tried not to think about it as far as he could. So he blissfully dismissed the conflict from his mind, leaving it as something for grown-up Zero to deal with, or maybe for a conversation with Spirit-Girl. She'd probably have something interesting to say about the whole thing.

One thing he did know- "That's not a bird!" Zèklè laughed. Did she really not know what a bird looked like? Of course, Zah-a's logic was perfectly sound, if one had not hatched themselves from an egg. But Zèklè could remember struggling his way out of a leathery shell: the idea of eggs was synonymous with birth. For all the boy knew, everything hatched out of eggs, no matter what species. That right was not excluded to birds.

He shook his head, black-rimmed ears flopping against a rugged mohawk of unruly mane. There was kindness in the boy's eyes, indulgence, and he stepped closer to the pair, lowering his head to peer intently at the multi-tailed fox before returning his gaze to rest on Zah. "It's a kits'ne," the boy informed her sagely. "Our Sultana's got one, it's her 'panion. I don't got a 'panion, 'cus Ma says I can't have one, but I guess you do!" His face grew serious, brows furrowing over orange eyes. "You gotta take care of her, and never be mean to her, and love her, 'cus she's part'a you. You're 'sponsible for her. 'K?"

Then the moment of severity passed, and the boy stood back up, a pensive look crossing over his face as the filly's soft voice floated on an evening breeze. There was something awful about the way she looked at him, so hopeful and sincere, so earnest and intent. It made the boy squirm, made his stomach flip-flop with uncertain anticipation, a strange sense of responsibility completely foreign to the carefree colt. He fidgeted, wing shifting against his side, and felt like her voice might break his heart- of course she was scared, without her Ma. He would be, too, but what was he supposed to do? He was only a kid after all. He didn't even know where she lived, and she really looked much too tired to travel very fast.

So he did the only thing he could think to do, his young body following an ingrained instinct, his voice wavering as he struggled to form his words. If Ma were here she'd know just what to do, but she wasn't.

All sweet Zah-a had was him.

"Tell Bird she don't gotta be scared," Zèklè smiled. "'Cus she's not alone- she's got you, and you're very brave."

(Was he talking to her now, or himself?)

He moved, forelegs bending, knees pressing to the ground, until at last he occupied the space to the right of her, pressing his stocky body against her frail side. The boy lifted his single wing, splaying it over the girl's back- a comforting motion, a mimicry of his mother, an attempt reassure both the girl and himself with physical closeness and emotional strength. Zèklè didn't know what he was doing, but this felt right.

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