It’d been a day or so, since her arrival to the Bay, and a few weeks since her arrival to Tinuvel. It had been a most exciting time for the blue mare; for the king of the island had proven to be a promising prospect, if a little curious and strange with his actions. However, she was almost certain that she was strange to him, as well. He seemed surprised by her boldness and her confidence, but once he had decided that she was no threat to him, he let his defenses down enough to engage in a simple sparring match. He also introduced her to his home, and together they’d had a little adventure.

Then, a few days later her own exploration of the Cove had given way to the Bay, where she’d met the wordless wonder, Fell. For certain, Fell had proven to be more her speed and more familiar to her with expectation. He was pushy, and he didn’t hesitate to get physical with her -- not that his touch had been aggressive, but to one who wasn’t as in touch with physical conversations every bit as they were with verbal, it could have certainly panned out more disastrously. They’d spent the day sparring and chasing until finally, the blue mare found herself thrust into the collective of his mares, and things were much quieter for a while. There was a feeling of peace among this herd. Some part of her, however, wonders if this was because the moment she’d crossed paths with the black stallion, he’d not spoken a word to her.

In fact, no one had. At least, not until this morning, when the black and white mare seemed to close the distance between them and spoke.

‘How are you settling in?’

The question startled her, at first. Her head jerks up from the patch of clover she’d been munching on, her ears tilting back with uncertainty. A hot breath would huff out of her black and pink nose before the risen hairs along her spine and neck smoothed over. “ Settlin’ in jes’ fine, lovely, thank ya fer askin’. “ she replies pleasantly. She’d then sheepishly chuckle, “ Ya have ta forgive my jumpiness, ain’t expect anyone to say nuthin’, here. “ she explains, and gave a toss of her head so that her inky forelock which draped over her face would scatter… if not at the very least drape aside, and give her a better view of the tobiano mare.

Not far off, she could see the colt that she’d witnessed nursing from her at a previous time. It was safe to assume that the strapping young boy was hers. Her ears would point forward with interest. “ Hows motherhood treatin’ ya? He pullin’ yer tail or climbin’ all over ya when ya try n’ roll, yet? “ she asks with mirth. It was a curious thing: the nameless mare was content to begin a conversation with a complete stranger without a proper introduction. That was how her conversation with Solomon had begun, as well.

It was a common theme, with Bluechild. Many asked questions about her name, and she hated explaining that her mother hadn’t bothered to give her a proper name in enough time for her to respond to anything else, and she had done little to earn a namesake for herself. But then, life as a childless, herdless wanderer meant she had little need for a name.