Common

She admired Goose, a male so passionate about his home she could see it in his bright eyes and the tone of his baritone of a voice. Loire was very much intrigued but lingered on the fine line of curiosity for a moment longer while pondering her choices. A lady could never be too hasty. A cold climate, she thinks, that meant snow and ice right? Loire, as embarrassed as she is to admit it, had never seen such wonders. Her home got cold in the winter yes, but it had never produced those little white flurries she often wished to see. The image of plowing through heavy snow fall wanders through her mind, the temptation hard to resist.

“I have not had a family for many seasons now,” our tenderhearted lady says, her voice soft as a whisper but was hardened with the sadness that weighs heavily in her chest, “I would like to go to this Bay of yours Goose, and meet your others. I think I'm long overdue for some company.” and she was, truthfully. There were many seasons between now and then where Lorie had wandered the vast lands but nothing had called to her as much as these odd islands had. Her skin itched to have the closeness of another brush against it, to be able to talk without being reprimanded for having a voice.

Perhaps, for Loire, this was the start of something truly amazing. She moves close to the gypsy stallion, offering her slender sloped nose in the usual way of greeting, pink nostrils flaring at the salty air he carried on his coat before she pulls back to a respectful distance and waits for Goose to lead the way.