 She is intrigued by the odd way he looks at her with one eye, but otherwise thinks little of it. Normally so bold, Evren is preoccupied by the unusual sensation of nerves fluttering in her belly, and likely would not have noticed the signs of his blindness even if they were obvious; she feels half-withdrawn into herself, like a turtle half-hidden within its shell, too aware of her limitations as a physical form, and feeling as though she is about to engage in a dance whose steps she does not understand.
Her tongue feels thick in her mouth when she finally speaks again. "No," she says, her voice lilting upwards in faint surprise. She wonders how he could possibly know such a thing, then remembers: everything about her, from her unseasonably thin coat to the way she smells - even the way she walks, so unused to treading on solid ground - marks her as an outsider. It's quite possible he's even picking up on her nerves and is misinterpreting them as her feeling like a fish out of water. That is very much how she feels, of course, but not because she's a foreigner.
A breeze stirs the branches overhead, and leaves of red and gold whisper to the ground before them. Evren would normally be fascinated by this phenomena that doesn't exist back home, but in this moment she has eyes only for the stallion. "My name is Evren," she says, and lifts her head a little higher; tries to inject a little more confidence into her voice. "I've come from Salem searching for new herd members, and you caught my eye. Whoever you are, you're... very handsome. I thought I would come over and say hello."
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