Suddenly his brows drew down, as though searching for something in his head. Something that had dawned on him, on the tip of his tongue. Shifting, forms...
"You're a Kelvic!" He exclaimed, holding a triumphant finger in the air with a proud grin, not unlike a child having solved a blacksmith puzzle. "That's it!"
Kelvic were not unknown to the Drykas, no race was truly unknown to a people that prided themselves on being of mixed heritages, but Jarhal had not met one before now. It was a very fanciful idea to him, a bit like the stories of red-haired people riding giant eagles. Not a lie, but so foreign to what he knew that it was difficult to believe.
Beginning to laugh, at himself if anything, he shook his head. "Oh, I'm so sorry Miss Featherline! I thought you were just out of your wits! Can you really turn into an eagle? And fly around?"
As a boy, Jarhal had often dreamt of being an animal, of being truly at one with nature. It was a hawk he admired most, to dart in the air with eyes so keen you could spot a mouse scurrying through high grass. To fly wherever you liked. It was only understandable that his voice grew rather awed, then.
"That's amazing! You've got to tell me all about it, before you go flying off again."