He knows more of this world than she, though not by very much. Walking to him is normal, though he’s not all that good at it yet. His legs are too long, spindly and wobbly beneath him in the snow. There’s no snow in the Jungle to contend with, though he’s growing used to the underbrush. He is not used to the cold (it is always, always warm in the Jungle), but he doubts that his life will keep him in his warm home. He better get used to the cold at some point.
He knows that his mother is Myrina. She is very much alive and very much doesn’t care what he does. As is evidenced by the fact there’s a very young boy wandering around the meadow, though he doesn’t seem particularly disturbed to be so young and so alone. It’s as if it doesn’t matter, or really, doesn’t even cross his mind.
He knows his father is Covet, and that his father once called the Valley home (perhaps he’d go there one day, perhaps he’d make that home, perhaps not). He knows that his father is also dead.
He knows his own name is Rhonan, and he’s gold and white. So very bright and pretty and ridiculous. His bother, Tytos, is brown and black. Suitable colors. Plain, simple colors. He wants that. But no, he is gold and white with an orange ring around his otherwise muddy brown eyes. He is bright and vivid and terribly annoyed by this turn of events in his life. Thus far, it is the worst tragedy to befall him.
What a charmed life, apparently. Not really, but he just doesn’t notice the other flaws. His dead father means nothing to him. He never met the stallion and never will. His careless mother doesn’t bother him. He assumes all mothers are like this, and that being a young child in the meadow is simply normal. He knows no different, and so these things are not bad. But he knows his bother is suitably colored and he feels like a pretty pretty princess.
He’s wandering around without any plans whatsoever (what else is a boy to do?), when he spots the girl. A gray little thing, apparently only a year or so older than he. She’s part white, either snow or just coloring, he can’t tell from here. But she looks about as plan-less as he is, and so he makes his way over. No one has taught him manners, and he doesn’t know it’s polite to announce his presence or any such nonsense, but the crunching of the snow beneath his ungainly legs is probably enough to do the trick anyway. “Hi,” he says, and then nothing more, because he doesn’t even know what he plans to do next. Nothing, probably. Hopefully she’s more useful.
rhonan.
@[Evie] I don't even know what this is. Sorry, but not sorry, because I love your characters.