the earth has music for those who listen
"Does he? That's good. I wonder what he eats," Mateo says of their serpentine friend, the boy stretching now that he's managed to slip through the branches enough to walk the forest pathways, snow and frozen branches crackling underfoot. "Oh? No, I suppose you are right about that. My dad flew me to stormbreak once when he was a manticore. It was cold," he notes, though his dimpled grin and rosy cheeks suggest that he didn't mind it all that much.
As for his studies? "They are good! They don't cover all of the things I really like to learn though, so I go and do that on my own. I like to grow plants," he explains, blinking as the trees suddenly part to spill them out onto the riverbank, right before his fathers' boat. "Aha! Thank you, Greatwood!" the boy trills back (because obviously the forest was responsible for their quick trip). "Shall we go and say hello?"
As for his studies? "They are good! They don't cover all of the things I really like to learn though, so I go and do that on my own. I like to grow plants," he explains, blinking as the trees suddenly part to spill them out onto the riverbank, right before his fathers' boat. "Aha! Thank you, Greatwood!" the boy trills back (because obviously the forest was responsible for their quick trip). "Shall we go and say hello?"
