When it comes to the changing of seasons, Finner is still amazed. He’s young and curious, as he should be, but the way the colors shift between greens to reds and golds and oranges and yellows and browns is something he is particularly interested in. It surprises him, really, how such normal colors could change to something reflecting a sunrise, and that the rest of Beqanna’s population can go around living under the flaming trees without very much recognition. Fall, it seems, is perhaps the most wonderful of seasons in his opinion.
The stallion leans down to show Finner the spiraling horns (to which the boy shifts away slightly, intimidated by the fierce trait) and explains how he got them from the Deserts’ army. Being a prince, the smoky grullo is well-educated in the kingdoms, their rulers, and the goings-on within kingdoms. He knows the Deserts is a traited kingdom, but he’s never seen a trait before (per the example of his recent surprise). Before he can say much more, another colt is trotting up to the scene.
Suddenly shy, Finner’s brown eyes turn toward the dirt. “Oh, hi. I’m Finner.” Then the boy’s mother is appearing and the yearling wonders if he should have brought his mom too. Maybe they could have talked. The one with the horns introduces himself as Krieos and the mare as Talulah. When they ask where they’re from, Finner grins. “I’m from the Gates.” His eyes sparkle upon mentioning his home (a quiet place, but he is safe from danger at least) and then he sighs lightly in content. “My mom’s name is Camelia.” Then he turns toward Ramiel. “Why doesn’t she have a horn anymore?”