One, two, three, four, five, six... and seven.

From the slick, rocky slopes of the mountainside, Solgar counts the distant silhouettes of the inlet residents, both permanent and temporary. From here they are almost indisguishable from each other, but for the shockingly luminescent form of Winter. He counts again, and again, just to make sure he is not hallucinating.

There's one too many.

He immediately sets course for the one furthest away, the dark little speck on the beach, meadering his way carefully down the slope, then avoiding the open meadow where the others linger, instead slipping through the trees, taking the long way. He almost hopes it's a stallion this time; the sheer number of mares and foals wandering in without a care in the world is almost getting old.

When he reaches the flat, cold sands of the beach, he is relieved initially to see that the individual is still there, but perhaps less relieved - or less surprised - to see that the intruder is another female. As he strolls closer, however, he can't help but admire her dark, gleaming pelt and her petite stature. Finally, a woman who isn't taller than me.

"And what do you want?" he finally greets her bluntly, his voice rough and everything in his manner lacking any sort of manners. He hardly looks elegant, either, with his hardy mustang stature, beady black eyes, and scarred body. But there's also an absence of hostility in his expression which suggests, while he isn't happy about this stranger's arrival, neither is he unhappy.