The man in black was met by intensity.

Pure, raw, intensity as Ragnfridr stormed out from a thicket like the cat that had left its prints on the battle hardened mare. Her hooves dug at the soft ground, volting her forward in a mass energy of fierocity and rage; this was her forest. And she would defend it -- despite her gender and status -- like it was.

Her dark mane and tail whipped and tattered like a war banner, flashing her colors despite the hardship faced. The scarred buckskin mare might have been more intimidating, if the dark, pitch stallion had not known her and had not been familiar with her fierocity, nor experienced it in the past. It was familiar, however, considering their relationship, that she had not recognized him for who he was. All she saw in him was an intruder, seeking to reap havoc on her territory and herd.

Sure, she didn't know her herd yet, but that didn't make her any less part of it. Ragnfridr didn't lash out at him -- not immediately -- she followed proper battle conduct as any band stallion would. In a display that showed her readiness to fight, and her aggression she approached. Neck arched, muscles rippling under her skin, emerald eyes full of fury.. She shoved her dark battered nose against his so they may exchange breath and size eachother up.

But she caught his scent.

Her ears, which had once been ready to pin swivels back with confusion. She grunts and draws back. This stallion was her step father. " Umbreon. " She said under a hoarse (though still feminine) tone. " You startled me. " Ragnfridr had never been known to apologize when she was wrong -- and now would be no different. That would be the best he recieved, though it wasn't because she didn't love him or even like him. She held her pride, after all, like one of the boys.