I could help myself to something
Corin has never wondered about the mythical and magical that dwell among them. His mother was a genie, a wish-granter, and so from a young age the stallion has been used to the weird and the wonderful. He supposes that, as a child, he wished that he had some special ability to separate him from the others; but, as it turns out, maybe being powerless is in the minority now. He briefly wonders about the other two horses.
From the way Berlin speaks - of times past, of years and changing and differences - Corin thinks he may have some sort of immortality. As for the mare, apart from the wings he has no idea. And he wouldn’t like to guess; he has learnt that you should never guess a mare’s age, weight or abilities.
He listens to the other two speak, waits his turns - what a polite trio they make - and then his mind runs through all the answers he could possible give to Yael’s question. What does bring him here? He wanted to expand his network. He wanted to hear about the lives of someone other than himself. He wanted to be something other than lonely, even just for a short while.
But none of that really sounds good when it hits the air.
“I wanted to make some new friends,” he finally answers, not sure if such a short response deserved such pondering. But he wanted to be honest, if these two are to be his friends. He doesn’t think that he is much younger, that these two may have enough friends, that they may be here for other reasons. Partly because it barely crosses his mind, partly because he doesn’t believe that an age difference matters, not here.
Partly because he still thinks that everyone wants to be friends with him, a throwback thought from his much bolder youth.
“What about you two?”
Like a little bit of revelation
