done a lot of things wrong; loving you being one

The band she followed to the Peak is nowhere in sight, but Hollis doesn’t have long to question if she’s made it to the proper place, because almost immediately another mare approaches her, a gentle call announcing herself. The first thing she notices is how stiff she moves, the way her coat is still marred with cuts. That sets her on edge, wondering if Hollis blinks in shock, because the mare approaching could be her sister - they’re both creamy-gold, dipped in white with striking blue eyes. It’s uncanny - this mare could be her in the future. Hollis would like to offer some polite greeting, an expression of friendship, but she can’t bring herself to. The memory of the mares she was so certain would offer protection and who had instead simply sat back, quiet and cowed, is at the forefront of her mind. So she doesn’t smile, but Hollis doesn’t run either, watching warily as the mare approaches. ”Hello,” she murmurs, her voice still hoarse from the fight and then from disuse.

Another mare quickly draws in, and she greets Hollis politely then immediately focuses in on the other stranger. Her obvious concern has Hollis relaxing a little, smiling tentatively at the pale mare. The two seem to be close enough, and the concern is unlike any Hollis was given, in her past herd. Even though it hadn’t been offered to her,the fact that it was offered is a positive. “I’m Hollis,” she offers politely in return. “I met a girl - she said...she said that I would be safe here. That there're no stallions?” Except the scarred, silent one from before. Hollis glances around suspiciously at the thought - there’s no evidence of him around, though. It still sounds too good to be true, but so far it seems to actually be the case, and Hollis is ecstatic. She’s trying hard not to show it, but is certain that There isn’t a response before a third mare approaches, all inky black and stiff movements as well. Hollis is shocked at how poorly off the two look - are there really so many battles that two thirds of the amres she has met so far need to fight for their freedom? It is good to hear the nonchalant, dismissive attitude from the black mare, that nothing is really wrong. “How does it work here? Who do I speak to, so I can stay?” Hollis hesitates, and then adds, a touch desperately, “Please don’t make me go back out there. I...I can’t stomach the thought of another stallion.”