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The borderlands were odd -- or so thought the black acha -- as his nimble body bounced, golden hooves skipping against the firm ground. It seemed to have an extra beat to it as the blonde tipped tail swept upwards in time with his head tipping back. The ground was firm in a way that the swamp often wasn't -- hooves sucked down into mud that clung to sleek legs like a hungering caiman -- and nothing at all like the sands of the desert. That was much easily to deal with; the Motherfather had surely made the Acha for the desert. Even so, he never could stay in one place forever. Perhaps it was because he was a halfbreed as others called him. (He still couldn't figure out if that was a compliment or an insult.)

Eventually all four hooves came down on the ground and he stilled. His head inclined and he took in his surroundings. He really seemed to be quite alone. Satisfied, he sucked in a breath and the merriment that he embodied dropped away. Seriousness did not suit him so well but without it, he skipped and danced. It made it very difficult to walk. He gone from egg to dancing foal without learning quite how others walked. It was rather comical as those who walked never seemed able to dance quite so well as him -- perhaps it was a fair trade off.

He began to take steps. Small and meek movements that spoke of uneasiness. It didn't take long for his body to shake -- walking was so very stagnate compared to dancing -- and his limbs to seem all the wrong sizes. Even his tail seemed to suffer as it swung far and wide in a failure of balance. He had maybe taken a whole seven steps before his front legs buckled from an awkward angle and he found himself bowed forward. He sighed, rear high in the air as his chin rested on the ground, this was definitely not quite right.

Rather than crane his head back in search of the shadow's source, he trains his eyes on the black outline. He hasn't quite managed to decide whether he likes this shade or not when he feels something take hold of his elegant horns, his mouth falling open, "H-hey! Let go!" Even once the words are out, his mouth stays in motion.

His hooves come down and find purchase as he is set on his feet, his tail snapping like the nimble branch of weeping willow. He thinks of shouting at this brazen beast until it moves to face him and he blinks. The buck's blinding blue eyes are almost rather beautiful -- he shakes his head at the thought before fixing a smile to his face. It doesn't remain long.

"This ground is not good for dancing." The acha scoffs, then lets out a twitter of a laugh. "All ground is good for dancing!" he grins. He turns in a quick circle before rearing up on his hind legs and doing a complicated step with ease before returning to all four hooves. "Your turn!" There's an unoffensive amusement in his eyes that says he doesn't expect the buck to do any such thing.

The corners of his smile seem to fall, a flicker as he seems to consider the buck's attempt, before his grin slides back in full force -- laughter bubbling in his chest. "Good, good! For a kimeti," he adds the latter and it is clear he means it as a compliment.

At the buck's words, his face transforms into that of one listening. He looks almost oblivious. There may be a hint of alarm in the way his ears flick back and his brow furrows but it's momentary and soon he smiles once more. "I am the best dancer, though, aren't I?"

There's a pride in his chest -- a warmth that he succeeded in something -- as the buck smiles wider. His chin comes up and he grins, gleeful and preening. The end of his tail swishes in place of a congratulatory dance.

Slide's politeness, thankfully, floats high and clear over the young one's head. His grin seems to hinge on goofy before he taps his hooves in delight. "You're very wise, you know! And smart!" Charm decides. There's a slight thankfulness in his eyes because he's not stupid, to a kimeti any acha is exceptional dancer, but he is not the best dancer. However it does seem to be the only thing he's good at and he'd like to hold onto for as long as he can.