Welcome to Gaia! ::

A soft chuckle seems to come meandering out of the cave, the sound echoing off the walls in tripping reverberations. "That is Knows No Better," follows a voice, gentle and feminine but also, somehow, sounding tightly controlled. "He is just a tortoise..." the silhouette of a mare appears, stepping slowly forward out of the cave and into the light, "...although the resemblance is striking." Her eyes glow an almost purple black as she smiles wryly, as if at an inside joke.

For a moment there is silence as Meets-the-Sea takes in the travel-worn buck, her eyes roving over his taut muscle and the way he holds himself, the strange necklace of ocean relics. For a moment she can almost smell the salt of the sea on him, and aches for the crash of waves -- but it is fleeting, and she comes back to herself. Her head tilts to the side slightly and the great webbed fin atop her head flexes open and closed once, twice. "You're one of Longstride's," she states, needing no confirmation. "A Tidewalker." The dark glow of her gaze flickers as she blinks. "You are a long way from home." It is not a question. She knows -- quite intimately -- how far a journey it is from beach to borderland.

The confusion written plainly across the buck's face makes Meets-the-Sea smile; she doesn't need her years of practice to read that expression. He is harsh, his reply caustic -- she can feel the anger in him, just beneath the surface. But more than that, the confusion. Not just at her uncanny ability to place him, but at himself -- he is angry, but he is confused by his anger. He does not understand.

The mare flicks her tail, its fin the mirror of the one on her head. "I observe. I remember. It is not hard to put these things together, when you have the patience." She raises a brow as if she doubts patience is something this buck has in abundance. "Meeting the motherfather doesn't hurt, either." Her eyes sparkle with amusement.

"But you're here for a reason; you were searching for a legendary. There are two of us, as it happens." She grins, tilts her head to glance out toward the interminable horizon of the borderlands. "Although my mate appears to be indisposed, at the moment." Meets casts her eyes back down at the buck. "Though that may be for the better. He wasn't all too fond of your father."

Meets-the-Sea can't help but chuckle at the way the buck looks at her. He clearly knows his father well. "Nothing, really. He blessed me -- it was very kind. Although perhaps telling my mate he could smell my pregnancy wasn't the most tactful." She smiles at the buck knowingly. "Though I begin to understand that the motherfather grants us our gifts in very unique ways. You are looking for a blessing as well, are you not?" There is barely a pause before she turns back to the cave, waving her tail in a gesture of welcome. "Come in. We have water, and food, if you wish it. My name is Meets-the-Sea."

Meets-the-Sea smiles to herself as the young buck follows her into the cave. Despite his outward appearance -- the stiff way he holds himself, the tension in his frame -- he seems, in fact, quite kind. If a little unsure. They are qualities she is a bit surprised to find, in a Tidewalker.

"Bitterleaf," the mare says, as if tasting the name. "I have not met her, though I would like to someday." She turns as they reach the hollow stone cistern where the tribe's precious store of fresh water gathers and nods her head towards it, offering the buck a drink as she ponders his words. "Not well?" She raises an eyebrow. "Despite what you may think, I cannot read minds. You'll have to be more specific than that."

The mare watches him carefully as he drinks -- it has become somewhat of a test of character, the way guests consume the precious resources of the borderlands. Flint passes; he clearly understands the need for moderation in a place like this. Meets nods her head and listens.

"Some fear death, some hide from it. Others seem to seek it out, to savor its taste. This doesn't make them bad, per se, just...different. Perhaps your lady's taste for death makes the life she has all the sweeter." She pauses for a moment, dips her head down to the water to drink before continuing. "But I do not know this Acorn Crop. You don't think she would harm your children, do you?"

Ah. Meets smiled. It seemed that this was less about the competence of the mother and more about the buck's own nervousness at being a father ... clearly for the first time. She remembered a time like that. "Of course I can help you," she replied, her eyes closing for a moment as she gathered herself.

When she opened them a few seconds later, her very demeanor seemed to have changed. The glow of her eyes seemed somehow to reach farther, and her voice echoed around the cave's walls in a strange and new way. "Your children will be strong of will and sure of mind," the mare pronounced, her tail waving slowly back and forth behind her in a rhythmic pattern. "And you will be a better father than you fear," she concluded, the strange intensity seeming to fade from her as the sentence ended. She smiled at the buck knowingly.

"You are welcome to stay as long as you wish," she continued in her normal tone. "Though you may wish to return to your lady before too long -- I think you will want to see your children." Acorn Crop will not be hard to find -- she hardly ever leaves her little grove unless searching for herbs, and the large badger she calls Root Digger will serve as sufficient protection. But still, although the doe may not need Flint, Meets can tell that Flint, despite what he might say, will want to be there for his children.