When the grullo mare confirms his suspicions, Solgar's dark eyes flicker downwards towards the colt, inspecting him with a fathomless expression and trying to imagine what the boy's father had been like. Though he hasn't been around many children (and he likes to try and keep it that way), he fancies that the foal is tall and thickly-built for his age, suggesting a sire of enviable proportions. Lifting his gaze to meet the mare's eyes once more, he muses that it's a good thing this stallion is probably dead, because he has no desire to come face-to-face with him on the battlefield in the future.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he says, not really meaning it, and is about to ask her if her stallion's name had been Tarrant by chance, when another female voice cuts through the chilly air behind him. He frowns and pins his ears back at Winter's quip, glaring at her in a manner which says he doesn't find it in the least bit funny as she joins them, even when she touches his shoulder as if to soften the blow of her remark. "You obviously don't know me very well yet," he retorts in a low, gravelly tone, but she has already turned her attention to the duo before them.
"Solgar," he says quietly, once the grullo mare has offered them her name. Then, to his surprise, there is a third mare and yet another foal on the scene. It is too much for his exhausted brain to handle, and if he had hands, he would be burying his face in them right now. Good lord. This other stallion must have been some casanova; there's a neverending flow to these blasted women. Uncomfortable, he takes a couple steps backwards and eyes the new additions warily, uncertain whether to be glad or irritated that the grey mare is ignoring him completely.
Maybe I could slip away without them noticing. I'm sure Winter could handle them by herself...
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