It was dangerous, foolhardy even on her part she knew. She was no filly to fall sway to the kindness of a strangers words, she knew better than that however inexperienced the young mare might have been. And now with falls change in the air she knew her actions now were far from wise. Now as with every other turn of summer into fall she should have been withdrawing all the more away. Even she was not worthy of becoming part of a herd she knew there were those stallions out there who would not even consider that side of the matter. They would care nothing for their acts, nothing for her. She had been lucky so far in her life she was well aware. So why now, why did she risk the danger stepping out of the most safety she had known in years within the boundaries of the Peak? She realised it was simple. She did not feel that danger in his presence. Silly perhaps given how little time she had spent in it. Yet her instincts had kept her safe this long. Surely they would not fail her now.

Ears listened to the rumble of his chuckle, enjoying that simple sound and only half listening to his words. "Perhaps." She had heard of some such things from the pair of young mares that had kept her company through the seasons change, yet they thought of meeting those unknown mares still sent a ripple of uncertainty through her tawny frame. If she wished to remain the longer Amica was well aware certain meetings would have to be made. Across her shoulders rest a weight, a need to prove she could bring them something. A heavy weight when she could not see what she could possibly bring to such a place, where mares must face up to stallions if the need arose. No, she could bring them nothing.

Thoughts snapped away from the unknown Vulcans hidden away somewhere within their rugged terrain, jolted back to the pale steed at the touch that brushed across her neck. Senses battled to and fro, urging her both at once to retreat a safe distance from him, and to venture closer. A small twitch back of her ears betrayed her indecision, before the later won out. Sooty limbs drew her form another step closer, nose extending out tentatively, wishing to know this kind voiced steed who had thought enough of her to visit. Her touch was light, but it continued down the lines of his neck, feeling the strong lines beneath the thick mane that filled her head with scent of him and his chill lands. It only lasted a moment, yet then her touch was gone, turning her head aside flustered as she returned to her senses. For once her instincts were confusing her.

Despite her internal skirmish the her head lifted a little once more as Pagan spoke of his lands, curiosity dancing across her features as she attempted to imagine a place so touch by the fingers of winters hands so frequently. Snow came with a new world of dangers, but as autumn came with its blaze of flaming hues, winter came with a blanket of white that could both hinder and aid. All number of dangers could hide beneath the white, or within the pale sheets as they fell from the heavens. Yet when it was still, so easier time was there for her to make out the figures of others. The land might be hidden but finally she was given a tiny glimpse into the movements about her. Dark ears cupped to his words then, a shy flattered smile caressing her muzzle. "Thank you. I am..." Happy? It was not a word Amica often used in her lonely life. She was happy to have the company of mother and daughter chase the loneliness away. Happy to feel safe there. But to speak of it as how she truly felt in herself seemed a lie she could not utter. "...I am content here." Content was more than she'd known in a long time.

Clouded eyes sought out the stallions face, an automatic effort as he uttered those words she had not thought to hear once again. She had persuaded herself it had been out of the steeds simple generosity to make it the once. And yet here he was causing all her words to fail her as he repeated it once again. Finally she found her voice once more. "Why? What use could I possibly be to you and yours, Pagan?" It was not an outright refusal, but a plea. Tones slipped out wistful, asking him to reveal to her how she might be more than a hindrance. She should say no, pure and simple. Yet the word refused to form. Not to him. The temptation was more than she could turn and walk away from.