Cerauno faltered as he was suddenly drawn into the conversation. He had been watching Faolain in the water and admiring the way the sun was reflecting off the cascade when the foal had shown up. The little filly almost sent him into a state of shock. He hadn't ever been so close to a foal before. They were...so small. Her little legs were so long and spindly that it shocked him that she could dance the way she did. She looked so delicate compared to the adults he had been around, especially the rogue stallions he had most interacted with.

He kept his distance, scared that he would somehow mess up and break the little filly. He listened carefully as Faolain patiently answered her questions, one after the other, chuckling as she mentioned the rainbows. He would have to come here in the morning sometime to see them. He tilted his head, observing the little filly's reactions. He drew in a sharp breath though when he remembered what the rainbows actually were. He and Faolain had been washing the blood from their coats. If only he could come up with something creative. As much as he loathed lying, he would hate to crush the little filly's optimism. Faolain rescued him though. Before he could say anything, she calmly explained the situation. Maybe the trick to talking to foals was not to treat them as fragile vessels that were unable to handle difficult truths. Maybe the trick was just to be honest.

Cerauno's ears flicked forward, his attention fully focused on the filly and her question. He paused a moment before answering, giving himself a few seconds to collect his thoughts. I'm not from the top of the mountain. I'm from somewhere you've never heard of, and never seen. I'm from where the wolves howl and the moon, and the panthers prowl in the night. Where the sun dances through the thick forest leaves, and the water rushes through powerful rivers. I'm a little bit of everywhere, but I'm not from here.
He took a deep breath, chastising himself. What the hell was that? Poetry? He could have just told the filly that he was from two weeks North of the Ridge. Certainly she would understand that better than whatever had just spouted from his mouth.

He shook his mane, ridding himself of the remnant moisture from the water, hoping to distract both the filly and the mare from what he had just said. What's your name, he inquired gently, starting to take a step forward. Especially since he had never seen a foal before, he began to investigate. She seemed spirited enough, and if it was inappropriate one of the two were sure to tell him. He lowered his head to greet her, picking up on the trace scents of fresh grass and other mares. Without thinking too much, he playfully tugged her short mane before standing tall once more and looking around. Are you alone?