Kendry is vaguely aware of someone else approaching but unconcerned, at least until Nattergal’s ears pin. The stallion turns to see who’s elicited such an unfavorable expression from the boy and is bemused to see— why, Nattergal-as-girl trotting across the clearing. His ears follow her, and he holds his tongue as she confronts the boy, her brother.
The exchange (though verbally one-sided, definitely still an exchange as Nattergal processes and expresses in response to his sister’s words) fascinates Kendry. In addition to being an only child, the herd he grew up in barely warranted the name. It was Marlena, him, and the band stallion. Kendry’s closest confidante and supporter has always been his dam, and so to see this dynamic between siblings is both utterly foreign and still familiar. Kendry understands the bonds of family quite well, and he maintains that blood-loyalty fiercely. Even if he hasn’t seen Marlena in years, he was always her champion— and she, his. Nothing will ever change that.
The undercurrent of this thoughts lately has been powered by this idea of blood-loyalty, of family, and he watches, enraptured, as the girl pleads with her brother. A small part of him views this scene with benign amusement, for they’re both so young and yet the girl speaks as if their lives are at an end. But the bigger part of him understands that that is exactly what is at stake here: the change between them, be it a rift or a crossroads or something else entirely that will forever alter the way they live their lives, is threateningly immense. That, Kendry knows, is no laughing matter. He maintains his placid expression, looking between the two with casual curiosity, his gaze lingering on Nattergal to see the boy’s reaction. Kendry would be delighted to continue keeping company with the dun yearling at the Lagoon, but he holds his tongue. This grave situation is not for him to comment on, only to observe. |