Mazarine is yet young. There is much she needs to learn about the world and about herself. She has thus far had little to fear, under the protection of her parents, but perhaps a little fear would serve her well. She has chosen to linger in a place any loner is vulnerable to force claims. Her situation now is far more dangerous than the situation she left behind, and Mazarine has no idea.
Baron is a noble name for a noble young stallion, handsome and kind, with good breeding and a future brighter than many, but Mazarine wants nothing but her own choice. She is not currency to be traded. She is her own person, and she will choose her fate, even if that choice means walking right into a force claim. At least it would be her own choices that led her to such a place.
The small mare is lucky though, that the stallion who approaches seems respectable enough. She lifts her head and stops the grinding of her jaw as he approaches. She regards him with curious, honey brown eyes. Her ginger mane gracefully frames her face. She accepts is greeting, and reaches out to meet him half way with a brief touch. "Oh?" She asks, tilting her head. "I'm ok. Just a little hungry." Her eyes dart around the meadow before landing back on the stranger's face. "Is there somewhere else I should go?" Mazarine wonders if there's somewhere better she might find a meal. As glad as she is to find her own path, the idea of a force claim is less than appealing. She wouldn't mind if her path took her somewhere safer instead.