Wasp continues her interrogation, but this time with a question that makes Gent’s eyes brighten with pleasure. For the first time he responds to her in a tone that isn’t mocking.

“She is. She left the islands with myself and Diamant, my brother -- er, uncle. Long story. Last I saw of her, she was hale and healthy and headed on a trip across the islands with her son. I expect she’ll return to the Peak eventually.”

At Khar’pern’s question, Gent’s eyes sparkle knowingly. He still thinks fondly of that midnight meeting, and how they had toyed with Raider till he had left in frustration. The memory never fails to amuse him.

“To be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure he remembers I exist. I imagine it’s hard to recall faces when one has nothing but air between your ears.”

A low chuckle rumbles in Gent’s chest, just as the filly at Khar’pern’s side creeps forward, her eyes locked on him. Gent looks away almost immediately, finding direct eye contact with children uncomfortable at best. But her words pique his interest, and one ear flicks forward. He watches the exchange between mother and daughter, and cannot resist leaning forward to chime in.

“I think you’ll find most stallions are,” he tells her with mock seriousness. “Your mother is a wise mare for raising you here.”

He lifts his head to look at Khar’pern when she speaks again, and cannot help but feel himself stiffen slightly at her sudden change in tone. As a Peak mare, she has every right to interrogate him, but he had hoped that she would continue to play ‘good cop’ to the bay mare’s bad.

“Things were not always so hostile between the Peak and Lagoon,” he says, and his tone is uncharacteristically solemn. “When I was young, there was a healthy rivalry between them, to be sure, but nothing quite so… vicious as today’s environment. Island-wide wars and alliances with the herds were unheard of. As a young stallion, the freedom and amusement of a bachelor herd was appealing. And, besides, regular herd life has never suited me.”

Gent rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “In all honesty, I think the Lagoon - Cullen in particular - has gone too far. I don’t care for him, or the band of rapists and killers he’s scrounged together. I don’t care for this pathetic vendetta they have against mares. And I don’t want the Peak, as the place that birthed me, to get caught up in it unawares.”

Gent searches the bay mare’s face. “You know, for all your digging, you have yet to offer anything in return. Your name, for instance,” he teases her.