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Hallon had brought her an arrow, her father told her gently, and although it did fly in a way, it had never touched the sky the same way birds did. The wood had been whittled down by two-legger hands, fitted with a pointed stone as a means of catching small prey unaware. She'd listened to most of it before tuning the lesson out, already intent on adding the slender shaft with its sharp face to her collection. It was lonely, she knew, and being joined with the others would give it something to do. True, she only had a few other guests to introduce: the burnished feather that had fallen from the sky, a twin set of rocks with shallow etchings of abstract creatures across their surfaces, a thread with one shiny, turquoise bead still dangling on the knot where the rest had abandoned it. But she and her brother added to it daily, and she always looked at the gathered personalities with a measure of pride. Each of them had a story to tell, and she gladly relayed them to Hallon, who was her captive and willing audience. She didn't make them up, not like a lie. The feather really had told her it was a Fly, that it had been part of something bigger at one point. Sometimes it sounded a little fuzzy or distant, and its voice was never the same, but that didn't mean anything to her. It told her, and she told Hallon, and that was as close to the truth as either of them needed.

Once the lecture had concluded, Sitareh gathered up her newest present and pranced out of the glen where her family resided, taking a winding path through the long grass toward a familiar tree. Giving a quick glance around, her wooden toes pushed a section of dead bark back from the trunk, head lowering to peer inside. The deep furrow where lightning-fire had scarred the trunk was just large enough for the arrow to fit, though she struggled to place it while the projectile sat horizontal in her mouth. When she finally angled her head and managed to stick the fletched end inside, she nudged the arrowhead further with her nose, not detecting the fatal edge to it through the thick plates. "You all play nice." She instructed them quietly, watching for a few heartbeats longer to make certain they'd heard. It didn't look like it: the Fly had been displaced by the newcomer, crushed up against the side of their shared nest. Delicately picking it out with her gold-mottled teeth, she laid it on the ground to smooth it with her tongue, tasting dirt and a fraction of its original flavor. A sudden spurt of wind had it lifting, and a shocked cry followed its floating path, the foal darting instantly after it. Where did it think it was going? "Hey! Come back here!" It hadn't even given a reason for leaving! If it took off without a word of explanation, Hallon would be so upset. "Wait!"

The Fly flipped, twisted and teased in midair, inspiring a sense of speed but not one of grace as Sitareh rushed headlong into the unknown, bronze tail waving like a royal banner behind her. Every time she was close enough to risk a grab, it listed to the side, and the filly was left to confront a tree or bush that had reared up without warning. Her dodging techniques were getting better, unsure if it was her own reflexes at work or the plants that called out a warning when they saw her on a crash course with larger obstacles. It wasn't as though she'd never played tag before, but never such a frustrating session of it, her quarry capable of boneless movements beyond the flexibility of her more solid body. The feather occasionally rose above what a hind legged stand could compete with, and her heart hopped into her throat every time, afraid it would return to its aerial kingdom and leave her panting in the dust she'd kicked up. "I said come here!" It was very deliberately not listening, and she was tempted to tattle on it to someone, maybe her mother if it didn't start behaving.

It was several paces ahead of her when it stopped, snagged on something that looked like a piece of sky chipped off and giftwrapped with hanging ribbons. Sitareh dug her hooves in to slow down, relieved to find that her Fly friend had been subdued while a throbbing adrenaline emanated up her legs from the exercise. Once she'd confirmed it was not about to kick up and start off again, her stare turned to rove the other foal, nostrils flaring inquisitively. There was a lightning bolt painted across her ribs, funny-colored in a shade of pink, but it only reinforced the idea that she'd fallen from above. The small, tinkling items around her neck and strung in her hair made Sitareh draw slightly closer, bronze and shining in the sunlight like her father's polished scales. They were pretty, nothing like she'd ever seen before. Where had they come from? Were there more?

She'd only met a handful of others outside her family, most of them adults that ignored her, even when she was outspoken to catch their attention. But this sky-filly questioned her easily, and the horned girl nodded enthusiastically, raising her chin toward the feather. "That. I lost that. Can I have it back?" Then, not wanting to waste any time, she added: "What're those shiny things you're wearing? Do they talk too?"

The other filly's willingness to cooperate encouraged the kirin foal, and she extended contact without another word, nosing unabashedly into the gingery mane for her Fly. The texture of that hair was as soft as her mother's, groomed as hers was intended to be, though twigs periodically became tangled in the short tresses. They were there now, scraping gently against her neck as she angled her head to get a better grip. The golden bulb was cold against her chin, a queer, brassy smell drifting into her senses, but her gift finally came free, and she backed away to beam proudly at the accomplishment. "Fwank yew." She said, mouth full of tickly prickles that stuck to the wetted edge of her lips. Poking it out with her tongue, Sitareh's neck arched as she trapped it in the gold-green grooves between the scales on her shoulder, nudging it to ensure the tricky thing wouldn't come loose. "No more running." The golden girl informed her inanimate rider primly, giving it a final once over to make extra sure movement wouldn't dislodge it. If she had to chase it all over again, she'd get even further from home, and there was no guarantee that it would be an easy trot back.

Done with that, she turned to Minuet, a disappointed look gracing her features at the denial. But the bell had spoken briefly when she'd touched it, a little ringing note that escaped her translation abilities. A name? If she heard it again, maybe it would be clearer. But Minuet held the bells practically against her ears, so wouldn't she know? Hallon didn't always pick up on the whispering that she did, but her mother could when it came to trees and stuff. She'd just assumed it was an aspect that escaped boys and moved on; but perhaps she hadn't given it enough consideration. "You sure?" Hopeful doubt twined through her tone as she examined the twin metal instruments that dotted the other's chest before manners kicked in. Her parents would be embarrassed if she went around asking questions without introducing herself as the lightning-foal had. "Oh, I'm Sitareh, but you can just call me Sita, if you wanna. I don't mind." Everyone else did, everyone else being her immediate family. "Do you live around here?"