A low gasp squeaked past Iskra's throat as the tale finished. It was the only sound he'd made the last several minutes, affording Zero the best acoustics with which to weave his story. With eyes saucer-wide in amazement, Iskra did indeed turn his attention towards the cave opening. He could just make out the shadow-encrusted outline of one of the teeth there on the top. His mind was boggled enough by the story, but the notion that those teeth were actually there thrilled him. The fable was certainly enjoyable, but now there was evidence that made it more than just words and possible truths. Now, without a shred of a doubt, everything Zèklè had said was real and true, and given the tallness of the tale, that was astounding for the young colt.

"THAR THEY AR!" he exclaimed with unrestrained delight as he marveled at the barely-seen fangs decorating the inner roof. As wild as the sparks rolling around his wings his gaze snapped down to the floor, confirming more shadowy-teeth erupted from there too, just like Zero said. Nearly bounding with excitement Iskra rushed over towards the opening, stopping just short of entering. "D'ya think it'll st'll byte me?" he asked cautiously as he squinted in to better see the ancient and terrible teeth. He seemed to lean, as if he were about to bound in without waiting for confirmation one way or another from his wiser sibling, the draw to touch and confirm nearly overwhelming. Just then something shuffled in the cave though, and Iskra pulled back sharply with a yelp, but then burst into roaring laughter immediately after. He'd startled himself with the risk of it all, spooking before he'd even had a chance to register what was happening, though he continued to traipse back to his position on Zèklè's right side (never the left side). "Itz safe!" he declared with a slightly puffed up chest, the feathers that grew behind his ears lifting up as a brilliant and prideful crest. "Too old n cold ta byte," he decreed without any actual proof.

As the quest continued (what else could it be but that), Iskra grew increasingly more relaxed and casual. Zèklè was fun, but also smart, and brave, and just cool. If Iskra had to grow up to be like anyone, he decided, then and there, it'd be like his big brother Zèklè. Mom was great and all, and he'd still be there for her, but this chance to not only stretch his legs but push the limits of the world, and to ask questions that got answers, it was amazing compared to usual! Big brothers must be a pretty special thing in a family, and so Iskra cherished the moment, laughing easily and chatting about anything and everything that came up. He bumped several times against his bro's leg in affectionate glee, much as he would with Ampere.

Abruptly however Zero rushes away, nothing but an echo of a phrase drifting around Iskra's ears as he was snapped from his internal wandering and wondering when he felt the absence of his brother. Race ya! the memory whispered, taunting almost with its delay. "M-IM GETCHU!" Iskra shouted as the initial outburst of energy rolled him into a rear, flimsy and downy wings flailing at his sides, flapping orange sparks to and fro. Eagerly Iskra rushed into a run, his hooves grappling hungrily for the ground.

Although the little spark races with all his might after Zero, the stallion had gotten a fairly good head start, and even with his limp he could easily cover more ground casually than Iskra could energetically. Still, Iskra wasn't disheartened by the gap which seemed to further as he ran, redoubling his efforts instead until he came careening towards him them. Though he wasn't oblivious to the fact that Zero had stopped, Iskra didn't seem inclined to slow himself in any way, as if rushing past Zero now might vanquish the gap that had existed.

That's how Iskra came to be galloping headlong right into the midst of them, shouting something incomprehensible, albeit victorious as he did so. It was an achievement only won with youth, where chaos and inevitable bodily harm were inconsequential so long as you beat someone. It didn't matter that Zero had already won the race, Iskra was winning the one now, the one where he was sprinting and Zero was standing, a target of defeat.

The little colt sailed past Zekle, then turned back to flash him a suck it grin. That's when he lost control, that simple act the unfraying of his coord-ination. His legs somehow turned on each other and tangled up, forcing him to face plant into the sand somewhere in the vicinity of the mare. "OOMPH" his lungs complained, devoid of anything else for a moment as he lay there, dazed. As his rump, folded up under him, toppled over to the side and laid him flat, he caught his breath again and roared with giggles as he flailed around in the sand, his sparks dancing off his wings with a vivid light.

"Beetchu Brudder!"