"What do we do when we are lost, Chatter Teeth?" The source of heat to his left front side is someone the foal knows very well, as much as neither know what colors splay the other's pelt. It is his father, a similarly shaped eyeless being, who was born in the same burrow that Chatter Teeth was born to. The foal's features scrunch up in thought, his father feeling the motions of his face against his shoulder. A gentle nuzzle crests the top of Chatter's head, tickling the sensor...

There is the faint breath of Chatter Teeth, near her side - this is all she needs to know it is there, it is still following and close. Shreds inhales, scenting - but the scent of singe, heat, soot, and smoke makes it hard to make out any other scent. Shred's top lip twists up, an expression of displeasure - but she does catch scent of something familiar, and then it's easy to spot him, ducked amongst the hardy, dry, furnace plants, black and red eyes peering in the direction of Shreds hersel...