It is exhaustion that cows her.

At the suggestion of fighting for her freedom, she scoffs and knows that a man as scarred and as injured as the palomino would heal- and he was no stranger to combat. He was larger, and more robust, and it was unlikely to be an even fight for the sand-woman. She may be quick and have deadly aim with her teeth and her hooves, but there would be little impact behind her blows.

Such was the reality of a woman that was living in a world dominated by men.

“I will make do as I see fit.” Yazheen was a survivor, and perhaps that landed on her some value as a woman. Small and fine-boned, there was a fire that burned in her, white hot like the sun, and that meant she was apt to fight like a cornered animal. Alongside them is the soft, subtle crunching of the snow, and she can feel the hairs raising on her back. They were being followed. Perhaps unfamiliar with this land and unused to the way the trees muffled the sound and the stink of others, Yazheen curls and hisses at his sudden approach, baring her teeth and preparing to defend herself.

Yet it seemed she was found by another youngling- though one that seemed to have grown into his bones a little bit more than the silver-haired boy, meaning that they had some difference in age.

This makes Yazheen feel superior- educated and experienced. As her dark eyes scan across the white stallion’s body, she relaxes, returning her teeth to their place behind her lips and straightening up. Only now does she stop in her leisurely walk, listening to his words for a moment or two before turning back to Noctis. “It seems you have offended a loyalist.” She says in a low tongue, almost with a hint of amusement at the edges of her words, like she finds humor in the new stranger being offended by their words.