laika
If Laika notices the stallion's approach, they aren't showing it. In fact, they haven't--all the other horses here have blurred into the background, social interaction not being very high on Laika's list of priorities right now.
It's only when Rafe comes to a stop and speaks his first word that Laika lifts their head, tension spilling through their body. Laika's hardly looking for a fight, but the sight of a stranger sparks some instinctive fear that they will be chased away from this haven they've just found. Their eyes flick back and forth, already searching for a way out before Rafe's words have fully registered in their mind.
Once they've had a chance to process the words, though, the tension mostly dissipates. 'I thought you were dead.' Laika blinks, unsure of what to say. While the stallion seems amiable enough, it's certainly not the most conventional conversation opener. So they wait in silence for Rafe to keep talking. At least now there's a question: a clear cue that it is Laika's turn to answer.
Not that the roan has one. Going? They're finished with going--at least, they hope. Is this not a place to stay? Dread sinks in Laika's chest, coalescing into a leaden weight. "I thought..." Their voice is hoarse with disuse. Laika clears their throat and continues hesitantly: "That I could... stop here?" A glance around at the equines scattered across the meadow. It doesn't look like a cohesive herd, but this is whole new world. Things may well be different. "Is it yours?"
Please don't make me leave, they pray silently. They don't know if they can swim another meter, let alone who-knows-how-many miles.
bury me beneath the flowering silk trees
to dream eternally of their sweet scent