Nattergal is familiar with loss, but his losses were caused by a different kind of disaster. Conflict can smoke out childish dreams, and burn relationships to ash. Nattergal is definitely fanning the fire by being here today. He didn't start this fire. It's not his job to put it out. Let the islands burn. Nattergal doesn't care.
But at the same time he does care. He suddenly cares a little bit too much. What if he makes a fool of himself? He was going to introduce himself, but ugh, "Nattergal". What a stupid name! She's going to laugh at him. Surely his voice will crack or his nose will run, or something else. Nattergal's stomach does a back flip and he snorts into the grass.
What are these things he's feeling? There is a stirring in his loins and a strong desire to impress this filly and make her like him. He has done nothing but intentionally piss everyone else off. What makes this filly different from anyone else? His young mind can't comprehend.
The colt's ears flicker and he picks his head up at the sound of her voice. Shining eyes are quick to find her face. "Hey", he answers with his mouth still full. A blade of grass slips off his tongue and his first instinct is to lip at it, and try to catch it. It drifts to the ground as Nattergal realizes what he's doing. If his cheeks weren't covered in fur they would be beet red. He is humiliated.