Life has taken on new meaning now that Aries was here. Before landing ashore on the common lands, Scarecrow had been largely over the life he was living. His failures as a father had haunted his dreams and dogged his steps until even the choicest cut of grass had seemed as appetizing as caked mud. Months had passed in a daze of self-loathing until a whim had carried him into the ocean, and from there to the Lost Isles.

His time here had been filled with more surprises than not, and slowly but surely he had begun to recover. Between the home afforded to him by Cain's kindness, and the innumerable gifts that Libra had showered upon him, it was hard not to look forward to life again. He would never forget those he had let down in his past, but time had a funny way of continuing on, even when you desperately wanted it to stop.

Scarecrow had stepped away from his small family to patrol the borders, something he tried to do at least a few times a day. He may not be the owner of the Desert, or in any true position of power, but he took his responsibility to protect the residents seriously. He had meant his promise to the tobiano when he'd spoken it, and the addition of Libra and Aries only made his job more critical.

A voice rings out over the arid landscape and he orients toward the sound, naturally cautious of the new masculine voice. As he paces toward the target, the dark-colored stallion becomes more clear and while he is a stranger, his body language remains neutral. Scarecrow looses a call toward the stallion, both to alert the stranger from the Dunes, and to assure Cain that someone was approaching if the tobiano was otherwise occupied. Crow knew that the losses of Geneva and Zubeia and the children had been exceedingly hard on the patriarch of the Dunes, and that sometimes, one just needed space.

As he approaches the other stallion, he cannot miss the way the stallion fits seamlessly into the landscape, as though he were meant to exist here amongst the sun and sand. It was enough to make him feel dowdy and out of place with his mixed heritage. His own coat lacked the glimmer and sheen of the strangers, being near pale with only faint hints of his original gold showing through.

Crow inclines his head before speaking, voice guarded but non-hostile. "Hello there." He inclines his head as he comes to a stop, a neutral smile slipping onto his lips. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He assumes, given that the stallion's scent is vaguely familiar, that he stands before the leader of the Dunes. His scent had lingered on the borders for some time now, no longer accompanied by that of the buckskin mare, or the Arabian stallion. If this was the case, then there was a good chance that he was not here on just a friendly visit.