Brash coupled with young as she was might yet get her bit. A fly on a spider's web, she was nothing here, and must remind herself of that. Shackled to a herd, stolen away from the first, and for no better purpose than a stallion's revenge, as she would come to find out. Questions had cascaded from her pink tinged lips. From the looks of it, this had not pleased the stallion before her, whom continued with the audacious assumptions that his land was safe.

Safe because he was there to protect her. Her alabaster face had tossed with a snort from her nostrils in contrariness to the stallion's words. As much as Björn might think highly of himself, Junia was not so impressed.

There, on the dark lips, had come the truth. Revenge. A foolish stallion had taken her for revenge. Whilst Junia was a wild-being, she was not so much enthused by the idea of revenge. It was a petty thing for someone to commit, and her cool azure eyes rested on the stallion like spheres of ice for a minute. "You took me for a petty game... how charming." Haughty words left her peach lips, to show how unimpressed she was by the shorter male. The umbra tresses that cascaded down her neck fluttered as she had curved her head away.

Even the apology that had come from the stallion felt only half-enthused. She was tired of these brutish stallions and their trifling ways. "I'm not sure you deserve a name. After all, I'm but a pawn in a much larger game." One tan hoof stamped against the ground as she shifted her weight, eying the stallion once more with indifference as she had turned her face towards him again. "But I will allow it. I am Junia."

And while she forfeited her name there was the lack of telling of the heated night she had shared with Ruger - the stallion that Björn had stolen her from. Such a short amount of time they had known each other and yet the bated breath of the season had taken her into the quandaries of little thought, thrust in the briefest of passions, which she did not still hold toward the Prairie stallion despite their endeavors.

With a cool expression on her white face she considered Björn. "And what is yours?"

Unannounced to both of them, there was the fruit of Ruger's genetics planted within her womb. Treacherous for future comforts on the Ridge perhaps, regardless of her penchant of the land.