He didn't really understand any of that, just as he didn't understand what it meant when his sire gifted him an egg or what it meant when the egg began to shake. He had been too young to know much of anything. All he knew at the time was that the cheepy, squawking, featherless thing was his and he would name her.
The colt named her Creel. That was the noise she made when she wanted food. He didn't understand the somewhat pained looked that flashed across his dam's face at his choice, but her affectionate nuzzle affirmed the decision.
He asked his mother many questions, as did all foals. Why could Mystic's magic play with the shadows? Why could she only see through the grasses? Would he ever have trinkets of his own? Would he fly someday like his sire? Would his paws ever grow into hooves or would they always be paws? How long before he could use his own magic? Would she name him because of the noises he made when he grew up? (She asked him if he wanted her to. He thought about it and said 'no'. She said she would keep that in mind and to be careful or he might become 'Sybil of the Endless Questions'. He didn't think that was a very good name.)
Most of the commonly recurring questions revolved around flight. She became impatient with some of them and told him that he would fly when his feathers were large and his wings were strong, and not a day before. He asked her if she saw that in the grasses. She said 'no', she saw it with her eyes. His sire said that maybe it was time to leave his mother alone for a little while.
He decided to see if he could make his wings stronger on his own. He and Creel wandered away from their current resting place, under the watchful eyes of the Song and under instructions to stay within sight.
His mother could see into the future sometimes. Did that mean he was sometimes-always in sight?
