The words that came from the stranger's muzzle made no sense to Sage. It was formed as a question, and yet she was unsure of what the question was. What unnerved her more than the question was how he stared at her. She had asked two very deliberate questions of her own, and yet he did not answer either, instead opting to study her with his gaze. Time passed and still he did not answer her. Sage felt the feeling of worry and the anxiety of the situation creep up inside her. She lowered her body to the ground, flexing her wings to ward the stranger away, telling him that if he went for her, she would defend herself. Her long tail bounced at the tip, a trait of her father - a nervous twitch that betrayed the defensive stance and gave insight to the nervousness she felt.
Then suddenly, his smile and happy glinting eyes shifted. What... was he suddenly disappointed in who he'd found? If this was one of her uncles, why wasn't he answering her? Why did he suddenly seem upset? Was he disgusted with who she was and what she had become? Everything about her body screamed soft and gentle, even her large size. Her plush fur was easy to snuggle into, like how cubs would cuddle into their mother's fur for warmth. She decorated herself with vivid colors, quite literally imitating a rainbow - something that brought joy and sunshine after a heavy storm swept the lands. Even her jewelry and piercings were designed to decorate her not in a manner of intimidation, but to enhance her beauty. Was her father's line so proud to be disgusted with how she had turned out?
Ah, frick him then! Her mother was proud of her and her father had been proud of her and that's all that mattered to Sage. In fact, she was just about to tell her guessed-to-be-uncle off when suddenly the wolf before her spoke at last in a sentence that made sense. It made sense, but it left Sage speechless.
"It's... it's me Wroth."
Sage's wings immediately fell from their posed and flexed posture to sag onto the rocky terrain beneath her. Her bent stand stood straight, shock clear on her face. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her body growing stiff and rigid with the provided information. "Not like you knew him." What... did that even mean? If he was telling the truth, then the phrase made sense to her. The Wroth that she remembered was small and vividly purple. Like her, he had a mane down his nape, but his was white and extended down the length of his body. She remembered playing with his mane, begging him to let her dye it funny shades and tie it up in strange ponytails. He had owned tiny little horns sprouting above his eyes. He had been littered in orange stripes like her father. And, most importantly, he had possessed the wings of his mother - though forever too small to allow him to fly.
This wolf that stood before her was absolutely positively not the Wroth she remembered. He wasn't, because the last she remembered of him was the loss of him, frozen in stone forever in the desert. It was possible that he was lying, but... no. She could tell that he was not. It wasn't because of any magic that she possessed. It wasn't because she could see the lack of fidgeting that foretold a bad liar. It was his knowing her name, his sharing so many semblance of her father and mother combined. While her wings held the shimmering sparkle of her mother's, his held the intricate patterns of the butterfly.
Tears suddenly welled up in Sage's eyes and every bit of defensive posture melted away. She'd been suddenly transported to this world, ripped away from her living family, and somehow miraculously found a member of hers that she'd thought gone from her life forever. She wasn't alone. Her father - bless his heart - had been looking out for the both of them and brought the two together. Sage's breathing grew quick and excited as the overwhelming realization struck her. Tears streamed down her face, dampening the edges of her cheeks, and she forced herself to sit down. If she remained standing, she feared she'd fall over and hurt herself on the rocks that littered the area she stood in. Her head swam with emotions and she had to mentally force herself to count to calm her breathing down. "On-One, two, th-three, four" she started, inhaling quickly between each word. The counting helped, but only slightly. "The rocks are brown. The leaves are green. Those flowers are yellow" She tried to ground herself by acknowledging the things around her. "Your horns are just like father's. Your wings beautiful like mother's." She wasn't alone. Wroth was here.
"But... how?"