Larke, he said. What a strange name, it thought. If it had a greater grasp on English words, it might have known that a lark was a bird, but unfortunately, it only knew the base descriptor of bird. Larke, It said, testing the word out on its tongue. It came out different than how the man had said it, obviously, because everything did. Oh, how it loathed the common tongue... it was a great pity there were so few who spoke Arabic.

Larke did not move towards, or away from Iðunn, but continued to speak. It ignored him until it got to the edge of the water, dipping a foot in to test the waters. It was lovely, cool on it's too-hot flesh, but it stayed at the bank a moment to respond. Mountain. It said, simply. It did not know the name of the lands it came from, as it spoke to very little locals on top of said mountain. And, when he did, it was only about food.

It did not return the question, because it did not care where Larke came from. They were here now, weren't they?

Then, he stepped into the lake fully, even going as far to dip his head under to completely soak his pelt through. It made a half-circle, paddling slowly to the bank, still not too far from Larke. He only meant to cool off, after all. Once it had heaved its soaking form out of the water, without even bothering to shake, it looked at Larke again. Where you go now?