Najya, she says, resident Sun Physician. The mare appears friendly enough, offering a small, inviting smile to Saoirse. The boy nods, and swivels his gaze back to Pat when she introduces the other boy. To the small horn budding from his head, sky-blue eyes and tawny features. Patrick’s exuberant voice manages to crack a small, timid smile along the colt’s otherwise blank features.

“I’m Saoirse,” he quickly chipped in. “But I kinda like Red-wing too,” he let out an amused giggle. Since the boy had never been given a nickname before, the prospect of one inflames the delight in his voice.

He isn’t aware of the subtle changes in the other colt however. The boy hasn’t learned to pick up on them, when mentioning his mother. He’d never admit it aloud, but he was hoping she might still appear. That the call would rouse her from whichever depths she’d plunged herself into, and burn brightly, fiercely – for him.

“Good! Must know lots, help Pat catch up?”

In any case, he was surprised by Pat’s authoritative decision. He blinked, and tilted his head at him. “O-oh, sure. I mean… I can try.” Truthfully, Ma didn’t really tell him too much before she decided to disappear. The boy pursed his lips together for a moment. Deciding that he didn’t want to admit he knew less than he should. Saoirse forced a half smile before resuming his gaze on Najya.

He felt slightly sick that he’d lied. And that maybe he might be less of a playmate otherwise. The boy takes a deep and quiet breath, fluffing his feathers momentarily before his ears burned and pricked forwards. Taking in Najya’s instruction. From sources to shapes and uses, Saoirse even began to crawl closer to the piles to inspect them better. He recognized some of these plants, but had never known how useful they could be. The thought entices the boy’s mind. He extends his neck to get a smell of the plants, when Pat makes a fair and crucial question.

The red-head perks up, head raised and eyes drawn back to his companion. A brighter smile plays along his lips. “Okay!” Pause, “Oh – Miss Najya -,” but before the boy can finish, they receive another helper. It’s hard not to stare too long. Saoirse can’t say he’s seen a stallion quite like this one before. His voice is all buttery, but not at all feminine in any sense; other than it swerves and has this habit of swooning its audience. Saoirse raises his brow curiously, and whips his head back to Najya. “Mother?”

Evidently, the subject of babies is not one Saoirse has dabbled into. So he's not quite sure why Miss Najya's belly is so wide to begin with.

Seeing as Pat has security detail, the boy goes back to the specimens on the ground. Inhaling their scent – if they have one. The boy glances briefly to the strange yellow and blue bird hovering above Pat’s head, and the accompanying mare who stands at the edge of their little congregation. It has very little to do with himself, so the boy full heartedly takes the task into consideration.

“Uhm, Miss Najya… Do you eat the cloves to prevent infection? And what about the chamomile, do you eat those too?” He looks out at the lands they’re about to scour for resources. He likes the thought of being useful, of doing and contributing. He feels like he might be more valuable in this way, maybe even liked. With a growing, soft and meandering smile he regards the others. Passing his gaze from Patrick, 'Thea' and Syrena, and finally lifting up his eyes to land on Reich's silver orbs.