Even as he is still looking around, trying to get his bearings, someone approaches quickly. The weanling swings his head over, wide-eyed, taking in the pied stranger with his dark wings and bright mane and tail. He smiles, opening his mouth to call a hello, but the stallion is crowding into his space a moment later and the boy’s smile falters, an unsteady intake a breath further betraying his discomfort. His copper ears strain to catch the snarled words and he tilts his head, blinks in confusion. “Uh…no,” is his offering, and he steps back from Castile.
His heart is beating hard in his chest, and the boy is rethinking his choice. Maybe, like papa had said, it would have been better to wait. He’d promised there would be people Maertin could help that would come to Nerine, too, but the colt was just so sure it would be better to go and find the sick people and help them. When the pegasus looks away, staring momentarily off into the distance, Maertin considers making a run for it. Of course, he doesn’t think he’ll get very far; the stranger is taller than him with longer legs and wings, to boot. Maertin just has his own still-growing legs, and he doesn’t even always win games of chase-me with his twin and his sister.
He’s still wavering, inching backwards step by step, when the man’s gaze pins him again. The boy freezes, body tensing, but all that comes is more questions. He tries to smile again, tentative and sweet, hoping that if he looks harmless maybe the angry stranger will believe him. “I’m-m M-maertin,” he chirps brightly, despite the slight chatter of his teeth. He’s never known true danger, and that tends to make the young irrepressible. “I’m-m here t-to help,” he pulls himself to his full height, puffing out his chest, completely unaware that the shivers beginning to wrack his body ruin the image of strength and bravery completely. “I want t-to heal p-people.”
Maertin
don't just sit with folded hands and become blind
