Casually the youth seems taken back by my exclamation, he mildly inquires as to WHY this creature would be made of dirt. A reasonable question.

Why?

Ha! Yes, Camon; do tell us.

WHY would it be made of dirt? (Amazing how a logical mind can play off its own set of sarcastic remarks.)

Apparently it wasn't miraculous or ridiculous that his pet IS alive; but it WAS ridiculous that it COULD be made of dirt?

At what point would all this impossibleness stop being a surprise? Would I eventually end up desensitized? (Man...my heart could use less weekly anxiety.) The native folk on this cursed continent seem to go about their peculiar, morphed livelihoods. All this was beginning to make me wonder...what WAS considered normal for them??? From behind these amber, dappled buttocks my muscled tail flicks from its frozen agitated state. It curves into an impressive arch, like a pretend snake fixing to coil and strike. The silken tendrils drag across the fevered stones beneath these toes.

Both perky ears flick back worriedly as that bat creature hisses like the lizard that it was; a throaty rasp that sounds like a primal warning, without much force it encourages me to take a subconscious step in reverse. Truthfully, I'm enjoying these mutated spawns less and less. For arguments sake I can certainly see that said beast wasn't made of mud. Faintly a noticing eye can make out the tiniest hint of fang peeking between those scaly lips; and those seemingly useful wings upon its back, aren't fashioned from water.

Before further arguments can be broached...

A previously harmless boulder starts to quiver and shake violently; three sets of eyes flit to it, alarmed. When the first stoneflake falls to gently clatter below, this heart takes a bold jump into the narrow opening of my larynx. I'm not alone. Both the boy and his bat wing creature was also shaken, he (or she)...springs for heaven -- strongly flapping its thin canopy to achieve lift. Both of my feathered limbs are splayed wide apart, arched, and all four rooted limbs tremble as if at any moment they would also spring upward. The youth remains just as surprised as me, though I'm to busy rolling up my jaw from the ground to see that his eyes had briefly mirrored my own. But obviously the boy is more accustomed to surprise and unnatural occurrence, because he rapidly recovers and inquires what I've been briefly starting to wonder. Just hadn't gotten around to asking yet. I blink, half hoping/expecting the rock horse to vanish. Nope

My expression is already set for disbelief, it manages to express this further. Saucer style eyes widden. A beast breaks free from said rock, or rather, materializes from said rock. Maybe both. Stone became man, a large one. Perhaps the tallest/widest I've ever seen -- these disk spools slowly travel up the length of one feathered pastern, forearm, chest and finally to a set of gems that match my own iris color. He greets the littlelings (us) with a gentle smile; the like of which I'd never witnessed before now. His whole manner is weathered, fatherly -- but the muscular line of that chiseled jaw forebodes strength and confidence.

Both gems fix themselves on the swirling torrent that remains close around me. The mountain man had asked why we'd come; of course I had no earthly idea what the other milk drinker was doing here. "Uh..." that uncharacteristic sound is all I've managed to produce in the span of time we've been standing here, but it was better than nothing, right? "This..." I start, before shaken nerves seal my lips together tightly and my awestruck stare steals up for this giant. Now, even these ivory pinions are fearfully quivering -- they aren't so tired anymore.