Did we just become best friends!?

Iskra's gaze diverted from Otem to her owl as it took to its wings and circled above Castiel, momentarily lapsing his words. The whale wasn't very perturbed, but Iskra had a brief thrill of concern grip him (which would have lifted his feathers were they not bogged down with rain), unsure if the predatory bird meant to feast or not. Iskra was still a bit new to the whole companion thing - did he need to worry about others eating Castiel, or were most well fed by their bonded? Since Iskra was hardly a biologist and had a lot left to learn about his own species much less any others, he decided to default to Castiel in this instance, who merely watched the owl with a detached curiosity. The whale would instinctively know what to be afraid of, right? Ampere had a point about not knowing what was in the eggs until they hatched, and then still not knowing how to care for said animal most of the time. Otem's response quickly returned Iskra's attentions to her however, his smile growing quickly and his volume level rising. "Hey! We're from the Throat too!!!" That he didn't immediately recognize her didn't really concern him; and not just because she seemed so young, but because the herd land was large and members came and went. He did know most of their foals though, but there had also been a lot. "My mom is-" Iskra cut off suddenly, and although it wasn't very visible, the blood in his face drained abruptly as a cold dread inched in instead. The bright teal of his gaze seemed to dim and he turned it away hastily, unwilling to let her see any wetness that might already be brimming at the edges. He breathed out shakily, but managed to swallow the lump in his throat so as he picked up his words again they sounded mostly normal, if a bit more subdued. Castiel gave a low gurgle of comfort and drifted closer to Iskra. "She was Sultana there," Iskra told the dirt by his hooves. "You probably saw her..." and that was all he could bear to say on the matter so he stopped suddenly, tail swishing audibly by his hocks. His father's loss was much less emotional for the boy to bring up, having never met the stallion, but he knew she was too young to have known or cared. Talk of maybes and gone gods did little to cheer him up, the wind in his sails gone. As eager as he had been to find hope in this familiar place, he already knew the truth in what Otem was trying not to say. "Sucks, doesn' it?" he commented with a heavy sigh, squinting out at the sea, as if Helovia could be found across the other side. Carry on my wayward son There'll be peace when you are done Lay your weary head to rest Don't you cry no more

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@Otem