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Sykes had ventured close to the Homewood today, out of desperation.

It wasn't green here yet, but it wasn't quite as hellishly hot or dry as the Barrens tended to be, either. More importantly, it was a little easier to find food here. She'd been running thin, and she prided herself on her foraging ability, but sometimes even she deserved something easy. She had old bones, after all.

She knew well enough, though, that it'd be rude to just uproot the plants that Homewood's gardeners had spread here through painstaking trial and error. Don't take too much, always replant..those old lessons still ran through Sykes' head even though she hadn't set foot in the Homewood in years. She wasn't the enemy, anyway.

You're doing good, protecting people, her companion Alten had always said. He still lived in the Homewood, though he worked as a scout, and his patrol could go deep into the Barrens sometimes. Something nervous always curled into his mouth when he watched her make quick work of a dire rat, though.

It was fine, though. Right now all she needed to do was identify a plant that was fruiting, or that she knew how to care for. The second was in short supply - botany had never been her favorite subject, vital as it was - but it was probably ideal.

Sykes couldn't help it. She was jumpy - out in the Barrens, a lot of the faces she saw were not necessarily safe to be around. She gave a yell as the pale little face before her nearly bumped into her, and then a double take when she saw that it was...this was...

A foal. "What in tarnation...?" she asked, pulling back. Sure, she was close to the Homewood - but that was relatively speaking. It was just a smidge greener, and the plants had clearly been put here by some diligent expander. It was certainly no place to leave a foal on their own. Or to raise one. She looked the little rascal up and down and then turned her head.

There weren't any other nouls in sight. "You shouldn't wander so far from your nannies," she said brusquely.

Sykes had never babysat anybody. Not as a fawn, growing up in the Homewood - there were always nannies for that - or as an adult, alone, in the Barrens. She knew it was a role that required expertise, though. Nannies often served as foals' first teachers, and Sykes wasn't sure she was knowledgeable enough in anything to do the same. More than that, though - this kid had surely come from the Homewood, somewhere. That was where it belonged.

But there were a few things that you had to be cruel to not understand. No one wanted to crush a child's hope, and this one clearly wanted to be out in the Barrens. It'd been hiding when she'd come across it, hadn't it? It knew that adventure lay out here. It just didn't understand yet that adventure was almost never a pleasant experience.

"Sure, I can watch you...until you go into hiding again, huh?" Sykes shook her head. Still, it was probably for the best to get this kid out to its guardians as soon as possible. That was the Responsible Noulicorn thing to do, and while Sykes hadn't been one in a long time...what kind of noulicorn would just ignore someone so obviously helpless?

"...I can show you something cool, though, and then we can head back home."

The foal had emerged, mostly, from the cover of the brush now, with the mention of something cool. Sykes looked them over. They were skinny, but clearly not starving - it was just that foalhood legginess that made them look like they were about to tip over at any moment. "Hold your cool, kid," she said, and then followed: "Ain't your nannies ever taught you not to take help from strangers?"

She began to move away, though, edging in the direction of Homewood. She kept her gait long, to give the illusion that she was trying to get away from the foal, but stayed slow enough that the foal could catch up, if they ran.

Sykes wanted to laugh for the first time in a long time, but fortunately it was easy to hide, facing away from the little foal. She could hear the hoofsteps awkward on the Barrens' sand and dust. "It's Sykes," she called, feeling strangely gentle. "And you?"

It was easy to notice that the hooves had stopped pounding so rhythmically, and Sykes frowned a little. Had she been pushing the foal too hard? She'd been remembering the way she'd always loved to run with the wind at her back, and she'd been hoping that this little foal felt the same way. She turned back with furrowed brow only to see...

The kid was struggling, but not because they'd fallen. It looked distressed, little mouth open and indignant and pained. Sykes paused.

"No one has ta call you anything but what you want ta be called," she said. "Take it from me."

That was not a question Sykes was prepared to answer. She took a breath, and redirected: "When I need to make a tough call, I like to run," she said. She picked up into a short little trot. "Come on - " she said. "I'll race you to that big rock over there!"

Sykes had never had any intention to bully a child, though. She smiled and slowed a little as she heard those hoofbeats begin to pick up in speed again, and then she closed her eyes and thought about the air beginning to move.

This came easy to her now, after so much time. The wind picked up, tousling gently through her hair, but she concentrated, and then the real gust came in, just behind the little foal. She'd had to stop to get it to look just right, but she could tell the foal was looking elsewhere now anyway.