The young colt still seemed to be learning his pronunciation, and Zevulun did everything he could not to show just how cute he thought the boy’s voice was as he started to speak. He glanced briefly up again, half to check if anyone was coming trailing after Cruise (or “Cwuise”) and half trying to see if anyone else from the herd had come near. It was still very much the pair of them, though, and he had looked back at the colt just as the boy explained he was exploring and then looked up at Zevulun and asked if he’d be okay here.

Zevulun smiled, “I’m Zevulun, the lead here in the Prairie. You’re okay here and feel free to explore, I have been allied to your family for some time.” Thank goodness, considering how horribly he’d run that relationship into the ground when he’d first arrived on the islands. He was grateful that Bacardi was a forgiving stallion, rather than one to hold a grudge. He was happy, too, that Sidra had such a happy life there… particularly after Luna’s loss.

The cream stallion looked with faint concern at the boy’s legs. “Can I explore with you, Cruise?” He asked, an idea striking him.

“There’s a large, slow river not far from here that has some really cool rocks, we can try and find the neatest one to take back home and show your family.” Zevulun suggested. The reason he actually brought up the river, though, was he had wondered if the cool waters swirling around the colt’s joints might help whatever had bothered him. They looked a bit larger than they should be, but too - he knew foal growth spurts could be odd themselves, and sometimes those growing pains needed soothed too. There had been many times when Zevulun had sought the river’s cool waters to calm any flare-ups of pain that came from his scarred, wounded left hip and back leg.