Despite himself, despite everything, the joy in her voice made him smile. It was a pure, unadulterated kind of delight, and one he could empathise with. Ever since he had been small and his father had taken him down to the stables to meet his very first pony, he had felt whisperings of that same delight. Even before he had understood what his magic was doing, before he'd even realised he had magic of any kind, the stables had been a place of peace and comfort. Horse minds were more straight forwards, more direct, more honest than the tongues of the men and women who populated the castle's many corridors. They didn't care if you were a stable boy, or a prince, all they understood was the person underneath.

When they liked you, when you fit together, you knew it was for your own sake.

Tristan managed to laugh, summoning a note of warmth he'd long been lacking.

"Mine's been on the blink lately," he confessed, "I nearly got stuck half-way through a tree the other day."

He could still hear Celidon chuffing laugh, and the recollection was enough to prompt his smile to grow. Gesturing between Tempest and Hero, Tristan continued.

"And then some kinds come as naturally as breathing, you know what I mean? The problem isn't getting it to work, its remembering you're doing it."

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"What can I say, I've been a bit distracted lately."

Listening intently as she spoke, Tristan nodded along encouragingly. It was all coming back to him, how to be around people, and in a small way it felt like taking a step back towards himself. He was in there somewhere, behind the cracks and past the cobwebs he'd allowed to gather.

"A girl after my own heart," he remarks with another charming grin.

It faltered a little as she continued. As he tensed, so did Hero. The stallion raised his head again, his ears flicking forwards, checking for danger. Zohar however, didn't seem intent on prying. Instead, she managed to make him laugh again. As Hero settled, Tristan sat up again, leaning forwards a little so he could meet her eyes.

"You think I look like a Matt?" he asked her, amused. He supposed it could have been worse, she could have chosen Marmaduke...or Tarquin. Gross.

"I suppose I can work with Matt," Tristan conceded. "So now we're as properly introduced as we can be...am I allowed to ask what you and your pegasus are doing hanging around in a forest crawling with outlaws?"

He forced his face into the most serious expression he could muster, all save for the tiny smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.

"It's not safe, you know."