"Ona?" He echoed, almost as a question. And then more confidently, christening her with the closest thing his childish tongue could manage of her name. "Ona!"

For him, she was by far the most interesting thing that had happened to him... at least in the last five minutes, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was so big compared to him, and she wore all sorts of expressions that were different from his ma and nana. She hadn't even scolded him at all yet, or told him to stay close and stay safe.

Wanna play? Kerr cocked his head in answer, not wholly certain what play was yet. He'd kicked up his heels and dashed around, and both poked and prodded (sometimes even mouthed) at everything he could reach with his nose, but no one had yet called it play. "I play," he answered, far more confident than he truly was. He drew his head up and beamed at her again, his tiny tail whisking excitedly over his haunches. "What's play?"

---

Isla was not entirely surprised to hear her mother confess to being a bit of a recluse. For as long as Isla could remember, her dam had been the sort of mare that formed few connections to other horses (usually mares), but when she did they were often lasting bonds. Pigeon had been first on the isles that she'd befriended, and then Zjeena, Monster, Valka and Titania. She knew all of their names, and knew how dearly her mother missed them.

As Lilija mentioned her child growing up too fast, Isla groaned good-naturedly and shook her head. "Don't say that," she murmured, laughter in her voice as she poked fun at herself. "He lost a few strands of his tail in a bramble last night and I was almost in tears over 'im losing his baby fuzz."

Grier nodded sagely, fondly recalling the panic on her daughter's face. She couldn't wait for Isla to watch her son's coat shed as he aged, going from his relatively dark baby coat to the pale silvery sheen of his mother's roan. Let alone when he'd begin to grow out the feathery, floaty hair he called a mane and it began to flop over on his neck like an adults.

As Lilija went on to lament Iona's eagerness to explore the world, Grier and Isla shared a look. Isla had been Iona once, only she hadn't just spoken about wanting to explore the world, she'd just gone and done it. In retrospect, she now understood how selfish she'd been to leave her mother behind as she had, but at the time it had just seemed like the world's greatest adventure. A way to see the whole world, and not just the tiny slivers she saw in each place that she lived.

"Isla was like that too, as a wean." Grier explained, her tone playfully admonishing. "I'm pretty sure the majority of my gray hairs were on 'er account."

Isla made the equivalent of a shrug and offered a smile to the pretty freckled mare, hoping to see something other than accusation on her face. As a girl, Isla's goal hadn't been to hurt her mother, she'd just been taken with the idea of a wild adventure of her very own. "The world was too big tae stay in one place," she murmured. "But I came home eventually."

She turned her attention to the young mother with empathy in her eyes. "Maybe I could talk tae her if ye want? Let her know it's somethin' to be done when she's a wee bit older?" Or take her with me, she thinks to herself, but does not offer aloud as she glances toward her son again. She didn't know when, if ever, she would be able to travel freely again. The thought was sobering, even with how much she adored her newborn.

"Thank ye, 'is name is Kerr, but he'd likely answer to trouble just as well." Isla answered, flattered by the mare's interest. Grier chuckled softly and nodded in agreement; the boy had probably only heard his name a handful of times so far, so the odds of him not remembering it were pretty fair.

"Did ye travel much a'fore ye came tae settle here wit yer da?" Grier asked kindly, trying to recall what Zevulun had said of Lilija's youth.