The voice pulled Han back to earth with a thump. He shied sideways a step or two, throwing his head up in the air and staring wide-eyed at the stranger whose approach he had failed to register. It was a small young mare, about his age or a little older, with a striking pelt of gold and white. Han did not recognize her, but her sheepish countenance indicated she was no threat to him.
"Hello," he replied, taking little care to disguise the bewilderment on his face, then without thinking added, "You're not from around here." Reserved as he was, Han had inherited a certain amount of bluntness from his mother.
Then he remembered the mother and foal, and anxiety surged through him. Had they heard him speak? What if they noticed he was following them? Han shot a nervous glance in their direction, but his fear was unfounded; they were too far away to overhear. Bringing his attention back to the young mare before him, Han found his eyes drawn to her flicking ears. Where at first he had read them as a symptom of her discomfort, he now saw them as an indicator that there was something of interest behind her. Yet when he looked, Han saw only a bush, its leaves rustling in the wind. Or was there something behind it? The sun was in his eyes, and he could not tell.
2; mutt; sooty buckskin; 16.2hh
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