Faolain watched as the palomino mare’s head shot up in alarm. She hadn’t intended to sneak up on the stranger, and gave an apologetic nicker. "I didn't mean to startle you," she said. The dark mare let out a quiet breath, consciously relaxing her body.

When the stranger confirmed that she was looking for Björn, Faolain nodded. ”I’d point you in the right direction, but I don’t know where he went,” she admitted. ”His scent was stale when I came here, and he returned only once, very briefly. That was about a month ago.” She turned to gaze up at the dense jungle carpeting the spine of the island, noting the edge to the stranger’s voice and choosing to ignore it. Most people she had met seemed not to approve of her decision to take over the abandoned territory, and though she was sometimes confused by the aversion, she had expected it. At the very least, she could not blame the previous residents of the Ridge for their feelings regarding Faolain’s presence, and for the most part she gave them space. She would have to confront them at some point; she wanted to know who would be staying in the Ridge with Faolain’s own herd, and she wanted them to know they were welcome to stay or leave as they chose.

She was just waiting for the right time.

”Is your business with Björn something I may help with?” the slender mare asked, her amber gaze sweeping back to the palomino. ”If it is a haven you seek, you are welcome to stay. Many of Björn’s herd remained behind, though they are not particularly happy with the situation,” she said with a dry chuckle. Who wouldn’t be put off by their leader disappearing, only for his position to be snatched up by a complete stranger? ”It is their home, after all.”