He had not thought much through in this venture, if he was honest. In his head, he would appear, they would take him in, and he would live beneath their supervision as he had always been anyway. Berit had been a good mother, but he had always been told he must be above reproach, that he must obey and follow. It was as though he and Carbon had taken different meaning from their shared mother’s upbringing. Carbon became more insistent and audacious. He had become too complimenting, too tender hearted, too submissive.

That he comes to Vulcan Peak was simply a merged sense of fate being named the very same as their home and the ideal male they sought out or accepted amongst themselves. His concern over the term Trinket had rested on the unusual thought that he needed to be useful to perfectly self-reliant mares. What use could he be? What purpose could he serve?

Then again, he thinks, what better male to live amongst them than one who was groomed from his youth to be what they needed? What better purpose to serve other than fulfilling what felt to him like some silly turn of fate? Well, nothing. Not when his future was so open ended.

When he hears the first approach of the Peak mares, his golden eyes key in on her instantly. She is beautiful, but he is careful not to ogle her. Her body was the color of wheat in the fall, her mane like rich bark, her white as stark as snow. His shyness comes through at the worst time and his ears twist opposing ways at her introduction and icy expression.

"I-- I was drawn here, and from what I heard - you accept my kind if we prove useful in some way..." he tries at first, his short mane wiggling as his nerves come exposed by the flickering flesh of his crest. "I don’t mean to intrude," he lowers his head further, mouthing at the filly with the foalish mouthing of teeth (for it was no longer gums), "if you might only give me a way to prove myself?" His nostrils flare, his eyes and expression showing his youthful earnest.