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She had almost expected him to reply with a resounding “nowhere”: if not that, then at least something like “here and there”, or even “wherever I like”. The impression Inka had of Valentine was that he was something of a free spirit, as random and unpredictable as the many speckles that covered his hide. She doubted she was the first mare he had enjoyed a spontaneous tryst with, and she doubted with even more conviction that she would be the last. He was young and good-looking: he could do whatever – and go wherever – his heart desired. He had his whole life ahead of him.
So when he instead responded without hesitation and named a specific territory, Inka froze for just a moment, her dark eyes shining suspiciously in the dim light. He was a herd stallion. Yet, as the seconds passed, he made no move to try and herd her back to his home, either through persuasion or brute force. Valentine simply smiled at her, completely guileless and utterly genuine.
So, after a heartbeat of hesitation, she smiled back and reached out to gently touch the side of his nose with her own. “Then maybe I will.”
Then, before her heart could get her into even more trouble, the Friesian mare stepped away into the night and gave the stallion once last glance. “Goodbye, Valentine. And... thanks.”
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