Just call my name, you'll be ok</style>

"Do you think the storm will pass soon?" A good question, but not one that the stallion can answer. Tallsun weather is unpredictable, especially its storms, and so all he can do is shrug. It may last mere minutes, or it may rage for hours. It doesn't seem to bother the filly though, the spotted girl rising almost as soon as the first drops of rain hit the ground. He is puzzled at first, watching her with curious eyes, but it seems that she simply wishes to play in the drizzle. He briefly thinks about joining in, but the desire quickly passes. He has no wish to get himself drenched, and contents himself with observing the crystal-horned flicka.

Where did this babe come from? She seems happy enough, cheerfully splashing through the puddles, and she never asked if he had seen a parent figure, and so he rules out the ideas of lost and orphaned. She is certainly not a fearful creature, perhaps she wandered off for an adventure? Or, like his Beauty, she may have been sent here. He cannot ask, and she doesn't seem inclined to talk about it, and so he supposes that her origins will have to remain a mystery for now. She might decide to tell him later, or perhaps one of his adopted daughters would ask for him. If she chooses to follow him, that is. While Lynx would be glad to take the filly under his metaphorical wing, adding her to his slowly growing family, he will respect her wishes. Should she prefer life in a herd, he will take her to one, even allow her to make the choice as to which one. Or, if she finds another guardian, he will not stand in her way.

Done with her game, the girl returns to the shelter of the trees, though she picks a different spot than the one he inhabits. Politeness, keeping her wet form from his own dry one, or does she no longer wish for his company? He is reassured when her tiny head turns to him, issuing a question. He smiles gently, for this is one that he has had practice in answering, and climbs to his hooves. One faintly cloven appendage begins to doodle a shape in the mud, forming the rough shape of a lynx with the quick easy of familiarity. Like some of his other charges, she may not recognize the animal, but the buckskin doesn't mind. Any guess that she may make is fine with him.


(OOC: Feel free to make up a name for him if you'd like. :) )