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“Metal…” Gabriel repeats slowly, looking at the shiny buckles on his dad’s leather harness, and then back at the rocks. He’s still thinking about all the things he’s seen that are metal (and that metal is really just a rock, what a conundrum) when Dragomir makes his way towards the pile of stones. It’s not until the tall man appears in the calico colt’s line of vision that Gabriel realizes they are on the move, and with a sudden jolt of fear in his heart, he hurries after his father.
Well, as best as a boy like Gabriel can, anyway. His bent hind legs move disobediently behind him as he quickly walks to catch up, his wings occasionally flying out alongside him for balance, when he tries to walk too fast, and, sometimes, he simply has to just stop all together. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his ankles, the boy looks down, to disguise the grimaces that occasionally mar his innocent happiness.
By the time he makes it the short distance to the pile of stones, he is winded, but hides it. Trying his best to breathe deeply but level, so as not to worry his father and distract from the lesson, the boy is eternally grateful to be standing still again. He does, however, listen; his ears perk up, and his orange eyes happily observe and note the differences in the rocks. Occasionally, he has to nudge the tiger mask back into place with his knee, but for the most part, he’s surprisingly still and studious for one so young. With a gasp of surprise and wonder when his father smashes the soft volcanic rock, Gabriel is delighted to see the silver within, and quietly says, “whoa,” again, to himself.
“What about this one?” asks the colt, taking a step forward and grabbing one of the obviously metal content rocks (to his magically enhanced eyes, anyway), and rolling it towards his dad; it was mostly black, with some orangeish yellow color to it. It was also dirty, but Gabriel thought that it might be a bit shiny, too.
Well, as best as a boy like Gabriel can, anyway. His bent hind legs move disobediently behind him as he quickly walks to catch up, his wings occasionally flying out alongside him for balance, when he tries to walk too fast, and, sometimes, he simply has to just stop all together. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his ankles, the boy looks down, to disguise the grimaces that occasionally mar his innocent happiness.
By the time he makes it the short distance to the pile of stones, he is winded, but hides it. Trying his best to breathe deeply but level, so as not to worry his father and distract from the lesson, the boy is eternally grateful to be standing still again. He does, however, listen; his ears perk up, and his orange eyes happily observe and note the differences in the rocks. Occasionally, he has to nudge the tiger mask back into place with his knee, but for the most part, he’s surprisingly still and studious for one so young. With a gasp of surprise and wonder when his father smashes the soft volcanic rock, Gabriel is delighted to see the silver within, and quietly says, “whoa,” again, to himself.
“What about this one?” asks the colt, taking a step forward and grabbing one of the obviously metal content rocks (to his magically enhanced eyes, anyway), and rolling it towards his dad; it was mostly black, with some orangeish yellow color to it. It was also dirty, but Gabriel thought that it might be a bit shiny, too.
