The silence drags on for a few long moments, the roan across from him staring rather vacantly before speaking. Hesitant, hoarse words reach his ears and Rafe blinks, blue eyes assessing as he watches the other equine. Ah. So whoever they are, they’re just as new to this strange place as he is, uncertain of the rules. Rafe hadn’t happened upon the Commons first, instead emerging on the shore of the Peak and quickly vacating the area when he realized just what it was; he had no desire to be kept as a trinket of whatever mares lived there now. From there he got the lay of the land and set out for the islands, eager to find a territory of his own. “It’s not mine.” Rafe clarifies. He’s a little shocked by the question, actually, and his tone reflects that incredulity - he can’t imagine a single equine holding a territory this size. Even here, the Badlands is significantly larger than the small marshes and rainforests of his youth. Between his father, his uncle and cousins who all held an entire island between the eight of them, the land only just reached the size of a half of the Badlands.
How can he explain this next bit? The rather forceful rules that exist in the Commons were a perspective shift for him - certainly back home mares needed herds to last long, but they couldn’t be shuffled along to some territory without their agreement. There was at least a little more choice for them, and the reassurance that they could always refuse, or they could leave without fleeing. He has absolutely no idea where this stranger came from, what sort of experiences they’ve had with herds in the past. “Stopping is allowed. But you won’t be able to stay,” he finally adds, shrugging a shoulder. Rafe glances around at the other equines spread around them, watching as not far off a mare is rather aggressively herded south to the Lagoon. Poor thing - nabbed by a stallion who cannot even manage to hold his own territory. He tips his head up to gesture towards the scene as an explanation, murmuring “You’d be better off heading further North to the Falls, if you don’t intend to be dragged out of here.” Quite frankly, this stranger looks like they’d drop dead at being pushed on to the next island, but that’s little of his concern. Whoever they are, they don’t spark an incessant need to claim so Rafe won’t push the issue.
He glances back to the stranger, and hums thoughtfully. “You’re new to the isles? You wouldn’t have let yourself wash up on the Commons otherwise.” All he can think about is Viveka, her frantic rush across the meadow to avoid stopping here for even a moment. Obviously the attempt failed and she’s skulking around the Badlands still, but he wouldn’t be opposed to pumping his numbers up. Especially given the unrest that has been plaguing Salem recently - Rafe needs more bodies, he needs assistance if he’s to keep an eye on things. Survivors, if they’ll make it through a harsh desert winter - and from what he’s seen so far, this stranger fits the bill. “If you’ve nowhere to go, my home in the Badlands is open.”