baby i'm from New York

[Manhattan]

 
Your child…born here?
 
Manhattan tossed his head at the question. So she was perceptive enough to catch upon his off-handed comments. October had been that way too. Perceptive, smart. He had until this moment only seen pieces of his mother inside of Oakheart, but now he smiled inside to think that she did indeed have bits and pieces of her mother inside her as well. She was indeed the perfect buttermilk blend of both sources of her heritage.
 
He moved alongside her, up the hill and towards the boarder of the Meadow, as if they were headed out of the common lands and to where somewhere… specific. “Yes. She was born here. I sometimes wonder what became of her.” Flipping his tail and moving his back behind him, he looked down the hill where they had come from, watching the trails of nearly matching hooves as they made their mark amongst the snowfall. He was finding that, in her company, his need to constantly traverse the world was becoming less and less palatable. He had seen the world. What if there was more to learn from simply… staying? Yet, he could even see his wildness and reckless heart inside her, and worried for her if she chose to run as he did.
Would she regret it? Did he?
 
 

MANHATTAN

Baby, I'm from New York,
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of;
there's nothing you can't do.