The mare, for all her muscle and towering height, is surprisingly soft-spoken. Emhyr's lips curve into a gentle smile as she speaks, listening with rapt attention as she reveals little morsels of information about herself. She is not of Tinuvel, she says, but it is clear that she has a familiarity with the island, and with the Bay in particular. Emhyr's eyes flick over her form, inspecting her more closely. The black of her coat mirrors his own, but where his is an unbroken canvas of darkest night, hers is touched by moonlight, his eyes catching on the strangely symmetrical splash of white emblazoned across her forehead.

It is her eyes, though, that truly catch his attention. They remind him of his father's - the same startling amber gaze that feels as if it is piercing right through him. This, in conjunction with her words about her mother and father, spark a thought in Emhyr's mind: is she another of Fell's many, many children? Has he unknowingly stumbled across a sister he had never known about? Emhyr shifts his weight and bobs his head, gazing up into Baba Yaga's face with curiosity.

"No need to apologize, Baba Yaga. It seems you're well acquainted with the Bay, and given you've not shown any hostility, you are more than welcome here." As long as their conversation continues on this amicable route, Emhyr has no intention of driving the towering mare away from his home. His curiosity, though, is too great to ignore, and after a long beat of silence, Emhyr finally forces himself to ask, "You mentioned your father, before - was that Fell?" All signs pointed towards yes, but Emhyr was far from one to jump to conclusions. How lovely it would be, though, to finally find himself acquainted with another of his kin based on pure happenstance.