Talking to animals certainly was a real thing. Gabrijel thought briefly of his mother and the golden feline -resembling what humans called an ocelot - that accompanied her most places. He wondered where that cat had gone, if it was still alive. He hadn't seen it since his mothers passing. "Maybe she knows more than she lets on," he said musingly as his eyes wandered back to the satyr.
"I came here to not die," he said truthfully, and a little quietly, because that had been the reason. The mortal realm had been an escape, and he'd been shuffled through the mound by guards when the last member of his family succumbed to The Nightmare. That line of thinking always ended poorly, with thoughts on why he had survived, why him and not someone more important, his father or mother or eldest brother. So he pushed those thoughts hastily aside.
"You know a lot about this," he said as he turned his attention to the books, but not in a way that completely closed the satyr out, because he was well versed in manners. Lifting a hand, he drew his fingers idly along the spines as his eyes followed their tracks. Eventually he pulled a book from the shelf and turned it, looking first at the cover, and then at the back. "What of this one?" he asked of the book called Tithe by Holly Black.