He isn’t left alone long. She’s young like he is, probably not much older than his own two years, and approaches with a confidence that makes Arneis grin. She’s pretty, tall and a striking grey-gold color shot through with white that Arneis cannot put a name to. She circles him, and if Arneis wasn’t taller than her, already built more heavily, he might be nervous. There’s something about the role reversal, about being the one sought instead of having to pursue. It’s invigorating, and Arneis can’t help but return her grin. She’s talking, and Arneis has to lower his gaze when she calls him perfect. “Uh,” he says, bashful. “Thank you, I guess?” He’s never thought of himself as perfect. These days, he’s grown into his legs and he’s starting to bulk up, but has always considered himself too skinny, all legs and awkward bumbling. “You too,” he adds, voice cracking a little at the end. She steps in close and sets her teeth to his neck. He lets out a huff of shock, but it isn’t as if it was unexpected. A little old fashioned, maybe, a physical mark, but perhaps wherever she comes from that is the way things are still done? He stands still for the bite and then puts a little distance between them, tossing his head to chase off the sting. Her next question has Arneis furrowing his brow, confused. “Aren’t I...I mean. Doesn’t that mean I’m part of your herd now?” He’s new to this, not raised by some strong stallion who taught him how things work. He never expected to inherit a land, or to lead. He was a hanger-on who at best was tolerated, not groomed to be a prince. “I don’t know anything about being in a herd,” he blurts out. Arneis and his mother had been ostracized, her for welcoming an orphan and him for his lack of shared blood. “So I’m probably going to be really bad at it. But if you want me...I want to go with you.” He watches her carefully, brown eyes ghosting across her form. He doesn’t want to make her angry, or make her change her mind. But he also doesn’t want to lie. What if she only wants experienced stallions? Someone who can fight and lead and be a contributor. He doesn’t know how to do any of that, and Arneis is suddenly doubtful of himself. “Are you sure you want me?” he asks suddenly. “I can’t fight or anything.” He gestures to the older stallion across the field, and offers tentatively, “He might be a better first choice?”
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