The rain obscures the quake which radiates through the colt's body as she turns, hiding much from her lilac eyes.  The gentle smile does not waver, though the colt looks still uncomfortable, uncertain.  Something about his nature was reserved, a strange thing for a foal to hold.  Normally, the light of youth gave them a natural cheerful and friendly air.  He reminds her much of Iktan, her younger brother, who had spoken very little and tended to avoid the other children.  There were things that delighted him, causing a smile more warm than the sun to form on his tiny face, to fill the once solemn child and the hearts of all around him.

This child makes no attempt to introduce himself, which does not seem to surprise nor offend the mare.  Instead, she simply continues on the conversation, onesidedly, the best that she can.  All her training in noble courts prepared her for dull and lifeless conversation partners, but her goals had been very different then.  She was to be polite, to be friendly, to be inviting, but never troublesome.  Instead, the picture of a perfect lady - polite and never burdensome.

Something about the way the boy says 'rain' makes the mare want to chuckle.  He seems perplexed, even slightly offended, by the element of water leeking from the heavens to the earth.  His question does not finish, leaving a million rooting possibilities of what he wanted to ask.  "Why is it?" is all he manages, and Zyanya ponders carefully.  "Ryle hira," she says, slipping into an idiom of her ancient, native tongue instead of the speak used in the outside world, including Helovia.  "Life is what it is."  The phrases in translated for the boy, but she does not explain further the expression of her people.  The meaning meant many things, usually different depending on the speaker or the situation.

Slowly, the boy creeps closer, surprising Zyanya, though she shows no outward sign.  She attempts to slow all her emotions in order to not stir the fragile courage of the boy.  He lets loose a small tidbit of information about himself, and judging by the horn upon his head and the hint that his home was not hot, she wonders whether he too is from the Basin.  Nodding, she smiles encouragingly toward him, his keen eyes observing the length of her horn before he poses a question she feels, rather than knows, he already has the answer to.

Despite herself, Zyanya begins to feel very fondly of this intelligent, awkward child, a night sky with one star.  "No," a twinkle of a laugh follows her answer, swallowed partially by the song of rain about them.  "I live within the Aurora Basin."  She makes no hint that she already felt he knew this, instead studying the small face for his reaction.  The eyes which seek his expression are soft, wearing a thin veiled smile and slight curiosity.  Hoping her stare did not make him self-conscious, she turns her attention back toward the rain sliding from the leaves above to the earth.

"Why are you in the forest?" she asks, hoping to glean a bit more detail about why the young boy is traipsing about in the woods by himself, instead of with his mother or father.  The mare only half expects an answer, based upon the boy's shy nature.  

""

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ooc -- no problem! Mine is slow in coming as well