Qeya River some people survive chaos

Amalia continued to move carefully, she knew well how protective mothers and fathers were, even if not in the direct vicinity. She did not wish to make an enemy where a friend could possibly reside. His red coloring was a startling contrast to the gray of his fur, and one that Amalia enjoyed. He brought to her in mind of the wilderness, the tapestry of colors that painted meadows and fields. 

Amalia was not privy to the safe guards in place, where the children could go and couldn't go. His  straight forward question, colored with shameless cloak of youth, as it is with all children. It brought a small smile to her face. 

I'm Amalia, who are you? She parroted back, her eyes twinkling joyfully. Would he be insistent that she know who he was? Would he be shy? Would he be proud as a peacock and strut. There were so many ways he could answer, being that he was as such in a way a little prince, and she couldn't wait to see what it was.