and where you invest your love, you invest your life
There is something about the barren land that calls to Tobiah; something that feels right. Standing here now, cool wind washing over him, he recognizes it as the feeling of homecoming. Perhaps he would not live here forever—after all, his forever had the potential to be a very long time—but he would always think of his first time standing on the border with fondness. His pale eyes traced the border of the Tundra, taking in the stark, harsh beauty and the relative quiet, and he simply nodded. Yes. This would do.
It was not until the stallion landed in front of him that his gaze jerked away. He had no way of knowing that this was his father—his mother had told him broad descriptions but no physical details—so he does not say anything at first, not immediately answering the demand. It wasn’t that he was petulant (although it could be argued that he was stubborn); it was simply that Tobiah liked to process things in his own time. If he was going to give his name, it would be because he decided that he wanted to, not simply because he was asked to relinquish it. In time, he would learn just how hard headed he could become.
Finally, after several moments have passed, he shrugs. “Tobiah.” The goodness of God, although his mother had not known the meaning behind the name when she had whispered it to him. He did not often feel like his life reflected such ideals—his god gave and took away in equal measures—but he liked his name all the same. It was simple, strong, and rooted in history. “What is your name?” he echoes back. It was only fair that he be given the same courtesy that was demanded of him, even if this was not yet his home.