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Best found out pretty soon after permanently pranking his brother with a turtle that having a crane wasn't that great either. For one, it was extremely independent for a pet and tended to flap away disdainfully during his very specifically self-righteous tirades, which pissed him off. It often returned soon enough, but it had not today, even after nightfall...and much to his shame, he was worried enough to wander out in the darkness to look for it.

He whistled sharply as he walked down winding paths, eyes watching for a flash of golden wings - three irate songbirds and another crane so far. No sign Of the Heart.

Best walked and walked, paying little attention to his trail - he knew the area well enough, or so he thought. He finally ceased his steps as he entered a glade that was alien, perhaps unfamiliar in the night. He sighed, turned to look right and left, and whistled once more.

This time he turned fully, body following the direction of his ears, and felt acutely embarrassed - it was angry embarrassed until he saw her, and all the machismo drained away and then it was just plain embarrassed. His eyes were wide, he gawked for a moment, then realised he was gawking and lowered his head, thoroughly ashamed.

"A signal for someone I'm looking for," he blurted at his hooves, and cringed at how stupid it sounded, so he raised his eyes and attempted a more normal tone. "I'm looking for my crane."

Boy, that was manly.

"It's lost and I think I might be too."

Speaking really wasn't doing him any favours right now.

He watched her every movement in her banter, surprised by her personable tone - her friendliness took nothing away from her beauty and elegance, and he could barely trust himself to answer her second question properly. He hesitated, self-conscious of its awkwardly romantic name - it sounded all too much like he was hitting on her (badly), but he couldn't lie, so he said, "it's called Of The Heart."

"It was a lovely attempt," he insisted encouragingly, a little eager at her sweetness, and hushed soon as he realised the possibility of sounding patronising.

"...but if it's not coming for you, it certainly won't come for me. Thank you for trying." With that statement, he was finally satisfied - appropriately self-deprecatory and grateful for someone so inadequate in the presence of one so alien, beautiful and otherworldly. He'd never felt this way before, and he was completely thrown.

He wanted to stay, but had nothing to say to the strange doe and the urge to please was stronger than his desire. Best awkwardly bowed, dipping his head solemnly, and indulgently looked into her eyes as he rose - he marvelled at their lightness and clarity. "I guess I should," he acquiesced, "good night, or morning, as it may be." He was about to turn, but couldn't bring himself to without a guarantee of some sort: "Will...will you be here again, tomorrow night?"

With that he grinned, and made off as asked. It was only after a few winding paths that the euphoria wore off and his vague, annoying concern for his crane returned, prompting a continuation of his hapless whistling all the way back to Rise and Co.

Naturally, the crane was perched, one leg tucked up, where the rest of the slumbering family was, and as he approached with a growl in his throat it merely untucked its head from a wing, looked straight at him and blinked.

*******

There was only silence for the longest time - at least, as measured by the forlorn thumping of an adolescent heart - but at last, leaves parted and she emerged, as fantastical as she had seemed the night before, pale and almost shimmering by the moon’s light.

“Hello, Of the Heart,” she cooed, lowering her head to the bird, “very pretty. I can see the family resemblance.”

She stared at him for a moment, the half-smile laced with a tinge of something that hinted at pity.

”My name is You Come Around,” she finally said, deliberately light, ”you may call me Guest. And what is your name, my prince?”