Patience was, fortunately for this steed, a trait which existed within the little shadowy mare that stood before him. With enough patience to wait out a thunderous storm as it beat against her, the mare stood, listening, considering each word this Quiach offered. She did her best to piece together his story; and yet she did notice that he had not answered her question directly. Why the World's Edge? He spoke of the Dragon's Throat, a herd, an ally of theirs who accepted those found worthy within their ranks - had he proven himself unworthy? Or was he lying, sent from another, an enemy to spy upon the herd, to learn the inner workings? He said that he wished to join the herd because they were small yet - and yet he longed to aid them to grow. Would he not become just another horse in a large herd if he lived by his actions? A dull throb upon her shoulder caused the mare to twitch her ears in an unsettled, uncomfortable way. The lacerations were healing, slowly, but they itched and stung at random. A fresh poultice would need to be applied again soon.

With a sigh escaping her maw before she planned her speech, the mare considered all that had been offered to her. It was perhaps, fortunate that the mare trusted the Dragon's Throat, and the mention of Yol, a young medic whom she knew had come to serve under Onni during the aftermath of the great battle, it did ease her concerns, at least by a small amount. She trusted the Throat, and perhaps, in time, she would come to trust this stallion who so willingly pledged himself to her.

"It seems to me, Quiach, that you seek a family. We stand for equality overall, and balance - where will you fit in?" A devious smile curled her lips, as the damsel mostly posed the question to herself, in a hushed, softly spoken manner. "I believe the walk of a Philosopher would suit you. All begin as apprentices before they progress." The conclusion had come to her easily, for he seemed to be one who enjoyed to have his words heard. With appropriate training, perhaps he could learn to become a story-weaver for the young foals in the herd, or a wisdom-gifter to those in need of a knowledgeable source. Mirage did not think him completely capable yet, and so he would certainly have to prove his mettle to her in order to progress. A mischievous glint entered her gaze. "Welcome to the World's Edge, young Philosopher." He might have been an adult stallion only a year or two younger than herself, but all those with wisdom knew that chronological age did not define how brightly one's soul lit up the night sky.

"You first task is this; tell me a true story - and if I am satisfied, you will have only one other task to complete before earning your full title." Was it unfair of the mare to demand such a thing when he was probably travel-weary, hungry, cold and tired? Probably. But such hardships were all a part of the proof, the test that would reveal whether or not he was indeed, worthy.