How much could be portrayed in a simple, gentle touch. For too long the sandy mare had learnt to be wary of such a thing. The teasing mocking nips and strikes of other foals when she was young, spinning around and around the near blind youth until she knew not what came from what direction or what way to turn any more. Later those bites and strikes left marks as sneering remarks drove her away, burrowing their way into her heart until she allowed herself to see the sense in them. She knew many faint scars that must pepper across her from head to toe, from trips and falls as much as the driving force of others. She could be no pristine beauty. And yet the curiosity at what she might see if she was ever able to glimpse her reflection within still waters had never truly struck her. What was the point in worrying over beauty when her life revolved on attempting to survive from one day to the next? What was the point, when there were none to care?

A small smile hovered upon her velvet lips as she listened to Pagans words. When had she grown so comfortable in the stallion’s presence? Even at his first appearance Amica realised he had managed to dispel so much of the wariness she had grown accustomed to with a few easy words around their younger companions. Now she found herself listening keenly to each syllable he uttered, drinking up those kindly words of sense once again, half distracted the whole while by his light touches. At the back of her mind those warning whispers continued, nudging the mare to be wary, that there were many reasons she had withdrawn herself to skirt the edges of the herds she passed and moved on further.

From where her head had bowed slightly in the the foreign sense of relaxation stealing over her it lifted once more, strong slender neck arching as he departed from her touch. Worry ghosted across her gentle features as she gazed ahead towards that pale form listening to the stomp of his hoof, the alteration in the pattern of his breath. Nervousness rippled through her. Had it been one small push back too many? Had she said something wrong? Though part of her insisted on urging him to see the truth in how little use she might really be she had no wish for him to leave. The mere thought of him suddenly turning and striding away back out of her life as swiftly as he arrived sent a pang of unexpected pain through her chest. She ached to reach back out and take back whatever words had upset the steed, to request his forgiveness in whatever she had done, but the whispers of her conscience kept her still. If he left now, did that not at least accomplish her wish to keep from becoming a weight about his neck?

And then again his words flowed. And like some magical elixir her fears were soothed away. It was not she his frustrations were directed at. For a heartbeat her cloudy eyes sunk closed, unprepared for the waves of relief that spread through her. The soft smile blossomed back upon the mares raven lips even as his anger hung in the air upon them, a melodic nicker released desiring to sooth his own emotions as he had hers. "If they had not then I would not be here." She might had ended up halting on one of those countless lands she had passed through. They would never have crossed paths.

'You would have saved my life'. Blissful embarassment seeped through her, even if she missed half the meaning unaware of the challenges he had faced within his lands. She could only find herself smiling, tossing her dark mane and hiding beneath the thick locks with a gentle laugh. "Can you not be swayed?!" she exclaimed softly, though from the smile that refused to leave her lips and the warmth singing through her tones it was more than clear she was glad he had not been. So why did she not simply accept that offer both heart and mind craved. She dragged her heels against being any bother to the stallion who offered her so much. "When do the seas become too dangerous to pass?" she uttered, little more than a whisper as she quivered with the contained emotions filling her. It was not a yes, still. But it was close. Oh so close. The possibility hovering in the air.