you shouldn’t walk where the hemlock grows

The filly notices Faolain first, and shies away behind her mother, whose gaze is not far behind her wary daughter’s. As she speaks, Faolain’s subtly coiled body begins to soften toward them. The two seem to be fugitives of a sort, and the hushed air about them causes the black ‘Teke to become more alert of their surroundings, in case they have been followed.

As it turns out, they have been followed, but the pale stallion keeps his distance and Faolain does not notice him at first as her small ears remain trained on the blue roan mare. ”Not at all,” she says, her voice a touch friendlier than before. Her dark eyes shift between the roan mare - Osceola - and the child, Matoaka. ”My name is Faolain. You have chosen a good place to explore; the jungle hides many interesting treasures.” She offers a small smile to the both of them, though her eyes peer curiously at Matoaka as she does so. ”Have you come from Tinuvel?” she asks, her attention slipping back to Osceola once again before she realizes that something has changed.

Faolain stands somewhat between the pair and the beach, and from behind her she hears the sounds of footsteps. Osceola addresses the stranger as Faolain turns to watch him, her mind swiftly going over the possible reasons for his presence. Of course, she doesn’t want to assume the worst - the stallion’s expression of genuine hurt and Osceola’s calm response make her doubt he is here for any violent purpose - but the possibility occurs to her, and for a moment she coils back up again like a wary cat.

Dark, fluted ears flick between the two adults. The stallion says nothing, but Osceola apologizes for the disturbance again, and Faolain shakes her head. ”No need,” she says, quietly but kindly. She weighs her options for a moment before speaking again. She worries about leaving the little family alone, but knows also that technically this is none of her business, so long as no one gets hurt. She eyes Requiem for another moment before deciding that he appears unlikely to cause any trouble outside of a potentially uncomfortable conversation, but ultimately it is Osceola’s decision, and she turns her attention to the pretty roan mare once again.

”Osceola. Would you like me to stay while you sort out your affairs, or would prefer space?” Her voice holds quiet concern, but no spite towards any of the newcomers. The Ridge is not a territory of harsh rules and closed borders, and Faolain has yet to encounter a newcomer who means to harm her small herd. She decides to trust that Osceola and Requiem can work it out without her supervision, though she plans not to go far if Osceola chooses to send her away.

mare | black | 14hh | akhal-teke