Calder had become far more familiar with the Basin and the layout of things here.  Unlike last time, he had not felt the urge to leave the Basin since returning.  He was much more interested in exploring within the land’s borders.  He wanted to get to know his herdmates and to involve himself in life here rather than remaining on the outskirts.  He knew it was time to move on and build a new life for himself and it seemed that there was all the potential in the world in this strange place.
 
He’d discovered that many of the Basin’s residents resided in caves to keep themselves safe from the cold, though Calder was not attracted to the premise of living in a Cave.  Calder was built for the cold so would rather sleep under the bright aurora than enclosed in stone.  He’d seen the great lake in the center of the herd.  He’d, of course, seen the monstrous looking sentinels standing guard at the border though they weren’t as fearsome as they were confusing to the brute. One thing that great stallion had been surprised to find here in the mountains was warm water.  Hot springs.  The mountain he’d come from had no such springs, but he’d known what they were instantly.  He was drawn by the steam to investigate, and was surprised to find a wee mare bustling around the springs with all manner of things by the time he got there.
 
“Hello!” he offered, still a fair distance from the mare who seemed busy enough in her task. As he drew nearer, Calder could see her bustling around with a number of things he didn’t particularly understand – though he did want to.  “I’m Calder.  What is it you’re doing?” he asked, and the genuine curiosity was evident in every syllable.  “Are ye one of the crafters?” It seemed like the answer was fairly obvious, but he didn’t want to assume anything about the mare.  He thought about offering his help, but so far she seemed to be handling herself quite well and he didn’t want to insult the lass, so he held off on his offer.
 
Calder found himself fascinated in all the bits and pieces strewn about – there were no crafters in his old herd.  Every now and then the river otters presented them with gifts, but they were plain folk, for the most part.  He wondered what else could be created here – and what the end result of all the lass’ hard work would be. 

“Sorry if I frightened ye lass, wasn’t my intent I assure ye,” he offered, sheepishly, feeling guilty that he had startled her when she’d been so studiously watching over her craft.  Wool, as it turns out, that she had managed to turn purple.  Fancy that! There were no purple sheep running around so this was one way to change colors.  Calder had had a friend once who had inadvertently slept in a blackberry patch just before his name day and managed to turn his arse quite a lovely shade of purple. That had been quite the sight when he had presented himself before the river with the others. It’s only then that Calder catches sight of the other that had joined them – the very man Eldala had named as the Basin’s master crafter.  However, Calder would be the first to admit that Johnny was not quite what he had in mind. He’s not entirely sure his mind was capable of conjuring up a creature quite like Johnny.  The big grey stallion managed to maintain his manners even through his surprise. 

“It’s nice to meet ye both,” Calder offered, with the dip of his head.  Both Eldala and the curious little fellow called Johnny stood a great deal smaller than he.  However, what Calder was having difficulty making sense of was Johnny himself.  He smelled sweeter than even the sweetest fruit he’d ever come across.  The large stallion tried not to make a big deal of it, but it just didn’t make sense and he just couldn’t let it go.  Why did the wee man smell edible?  Calder peeled his eyes away from the delicious smelling stallion and studiously studied his front hooves for a moment before Eldala began explaining just what it was that she had created.  It was the perfect distraction for the succulent conundrum that now plagued the brute.   “That’s verra clever, Eldala.  I never would have thought sea snails would turn somethin’ that color,” Calder certainly was impressed at the little mare’s ability to turn the creepy crawlies on the beach into something useful. 

“If ye are lookin’ to try pink next – perhaps ye could use raspberries?  I dunno if those even grow anywhere near here, but we used to have all sorts of berries in the mountains where I grew up that might turn a wee bit of wool pink if ye had enough of them,” he offered the gold mare a smile, hoping that maybe he could be helpful though he knew nothing of dying wool.  He then turned his blue eyes back to the perplexing little stallion. “What can ye make with something like this?” he asked, nodding to the colored wool, genuinely curious as to what the fragrant man was capable of.