Since his mother departure, Bran has been Nattergal's only sense of companionship. A horse is a social animal by nature. Feeling disconnected from those around him has left Nattergal feeling painfully alone. It means a lot to the colt to just be able to graze like this with someone, someone older, someone who makes him feel safe. Just because he can be independent, doesn't mean he always wants to be.
Nattergal has put on a brave, and even belligerent face a lot over these last several months, and it feels good to let it melt away. As the minutes tick by the tension eases from his shoulders, and the hot anger inside him continues to cool. For the first time this summer, Nattergal really hears the birds, and tastes the sweet, dew-covered grasses. He's almost happy.
Peace settles over Nattergal enough that he feels he can answer the stallion honestly. "No, but first time in this particular spot." Nattergal is no stranger to swimming off when he's not supposed to. He's seen the meadow a few times, and traveled up and down the coast in several places, but never has he been this far inland, and this far north on this island at the same time. He hopes he can trust this stranger with such a confession. Admitting to being in unfamiliar territory could leave him vulnerable, but Nattergal figures, he's already so much smaller than this other stallion, and has been standing close enough for long enough, that if this stallion wanted to do him harm, he would have done it already.
Nattergal answers the next question honestly too, and divulging the information quite happily until the words are already rolling off his tongue. "I'm Nattergal, of the Bay." The word "bay" turns to ash in his mouth. An expression once ranging from neutral to content suddenly turns sour and a darkness passes behind the colt's young eyes. He is quick to look down, and resume ripping vigorously at the grass at his feet, feigning a sudden returning hunger.
Nattergal is not "of the Bay". That wretched wasteland is no home to him, not part of any title of his. But neither does he belong to Paradise. Nattergal is no one of nowhere, and this realization hurts.