The boy does not notice the strands of gold. He does notice the warmth of the mare, her soft muzzle on his forehead and the gentle rumble of her voice as it reverberates through his body. He feels content, his anxiety eased by her touch.
Before long his tummy rumbles, an uncomfortable feeling, and the boy begins to notice that his nose is overloaded with smells. Patiently he picks through them until he recognizes one that makes his mouth water. He nudges the golden mare politely and stumbles towards his mother. A sigh of relief leaves his throat, a sound he does not hear. His mother nuzzles his side. He responds with a wagging tail and an eager lunge for milk. The black colt drinks deeply, oblivious to the world around him, oblivious to the sound of his name being spoken into the air.
For him, in this moment, life is simple. There is touch and there is food. Already he is a male of simple tastes. The world will delight him even though it will never speak to him.