I still smile at her, drinking in the bells of her laughter, as she tells me of her battles. It’s interesting that she’s been in any, and also makes me respect her a bit more, that she understands the importance of being strong, and capable. That I also know both of her partners (if the Haruspex she speaks of is still Ashamin; he would be the third name I know to hold the position within my lifetime, and so I wouldn’t be too surprised if it’s someone completely new, now) is something which deepens the forming bond between us. It’s always good to hear Erebos’ name, even though thinking of Ashamin alongside my strong, handsome brother is slightly bothersome, and the smile that adorns my features blooms with the glowing warmth that can be found on the faces of boys, when they speak of their truest friends.

"I sparred with Erebos recently, myself," I say, negating to mention my feelings about the painted Haruspex (should she think fondly of him, and thereby lesser of me), "he’s so much stronger than he was when we were kids. I guess it makes sense though, his father having been the General for all those years."

Duir’s toppling and the conversation it inspires draw another chord in which we are similar, things that, to a young man, strike chords of harmony within myself that, surely, means we are meant to be friends. Mostly, however, its that she’s pretty, and that I’m foolish, and, well, in the midst of certain physical developments that make me highly interested in females. It also inspires a wonder as to where she’s from, that bonds weren’t common place. Even in the Nightwalk, some of the herd members had hounds, deer, or griffons of their own.

"I wouldn’t have remained in such a place, either," I remark with a playful grin. In the distance, Duir’s heart explodes with delight as a paw touches his nose, and the polecat appears from an entirely different hole. His searching increases its pace, questioning the peculiar magic that seems to be happening here with a restless abandon that only the very young seem to have. "It’s definitely not what I expected. Maybe I just never paid enough attention to the bonds of others know what to expect."

I don’t know what kind of animal Duir even is, though I’ve probably been told. He’s a deer, of some kind, but deer are brown, and basic, with cream bellies. Duir is magical, obvious as the gold that glitters across his body, and that makes him as much a deer as a dragon is truly a lizard.

I don’t say as much. She’ll likely think less of me if I don’t know.

More similarities continue to spawn; we’re irresponsible, we fought the same God in this very stretch of Helovia. Where she shivers, however, I try my best to hide my own fear which the rises at the memory of the wolves, nodding a yes to her question before I ever speak. Over at the log, Duir looks up at us with wonder at this new course of emotion, that seems to suggest something grand and dangerous, but the squeaks of his friend, Remy, quickly draw his attentions back to bobbing his nose in and out of the log’s holes; the horse creatures were also not doing anything obviously dramatic in any way, which was boring in comparison to magically appearing polecats.

"Certainly," I state, the small remnants of what (hopefully) will become a beard evident, not only in winter, but the warmer months as well, such as my sire’s, or Uncle Torleik’s, "being born and bred in the mountains of mountain people makes the heat particularly loathsome. While it keeps me good and snug during the snows, it sucks in Tallsun.

"Should you like to find me then, it will be alongside rivers, unless it’s dark," I laugh, trying out one of her playful winks myself to see how it feels.

It feels girly, so I definitely won’t be doing that again.

"I fought the Wolf, as well," I proudly state, my braggart’s nature worming its way in to compensate for my girly winking, "I guess it was more exciting than I recall, if I missed seeing you there."