More people keep coming, much to the colt's awe. He feels no jealousy or spite towards these nameless, faceless others, because he doesn't realise that there is something at stake here. As far as he can see, it is simply a gathering of people, with the added interest of a talking tree.

A scary-looking filly - older than him and with a face like a skull - addresses him directly, but her words don't have quite the effect she probably expected. If she had hoped for fear or revulsion, she's to be disappointed. "Really? That's awesome," croons the colt, looking with plate-sized eyes at the egg and the tree. Imagine if he took the monster-egg home to show Esinakh! She'd be thrilled!

Another filly speaks to him, this one a lot less terrifying, and points out that it's an egg. Arakh frowns, his grullo brows knotting together with his consternation. "Egg? Like where birds made?" She asks who he is, and the calf ruffles himself up proudly. "Arakh! Who you?" He's distracted from any further questioning by the tree, which speaks again in a quite disconcerting voice. It requests food for the creatures in its midst, and Arakh looks down at its roots as though expecting to see dozens of little rodents escaping from the twisted fingers.

Well, that won't do. He can't let the poor little beasties starve! He does not act out of particular empathy for the creatures themselves - rather, he knows that his mother's lion eats small herbivores, and it would be truly dreadful if Dominus starved to death through lack of prey. Altruism isn't quite a thing that the bull-horned boy understands yet, but all the same he nods his head eagerly at the tree's words. "Arakh help!" he exclaims. With as much pace as he can muster - and with his wings staying tucked to his sides so as not to obstruct him - he dives into the undergrowth. Unlike some of the larger foals and adults, Arakh is still small enough to slip between the thickets and roots that a bigger creature would struggle to enter. His wings get snagged on thorns and his face tingles as it's scratched by the angry fingers of the plants and trees, but he is so focused on his task that he doesn't notice.

He emerges moments later with a tuft of berries hanging out of his mouth, and a couple of nuts stuffed into his cheeks like an overgrown squirrel. He darts gleefully over to the stumps that the tree has provided, deposits his prize into them, then bounds back to hunt for more.