Before he had been given the smallest inkling of a moment to assess the new comer and weigh her value through his own eyes, there is a flurry of words that fly around the group. First the recluse champagne, with digging words, splurges her smart remarks on the flamboyant appaloosa. With dark eyes that seem to see everything, the stallion is watching as the young bay filly disappears into the trees while the others quarrel. Once Costello has been completely engulfed by the trees, he addresses the group. “I leave you all to your own devices, but bickering like children is hardly acceptable.”

Vercingetorix had been thankful for his genes- thankful that he had been born male and not forced into the group setting of a herd, for permanence with large numbers of companions would have surely driven him insane. He was also thankful that he had been blessed with a smooth, low voice, one that cuts through the air with a hint of authority as he quietly addresses the two mares. He does not scold them, for they are grown and should know their childhood lessons, but instead he brings to light that petty insults and smart remarks would not do well for anyone in the herd setting.

Finally, with one last glance towards the champagne (of whom he had already planned a private meeting with, once he was capable of cutting her off from publicness of the herd, where they would be allowed their words in seclusion) there is another voice, this time coming from the bubbly mare as she steps forwards. Always with a confusion and somewhat flustered barrage of words, the stallion once more plays the dance of attention; flicking eyes from Serenity to the newly named Owl, and back again, followed by an uncertain glance towards Dresden to gauge her reaction to the ordeal and finally back again. While instincts and a fierce sense of the need to protect his herd drove him to do and be who and what he was, the stallion would never fling himself in the direction of a woman with the intent to harm her- lest she make a motion to harm him first.

Calm, dark eyes stick to Serenity's face for a moment or two before he speaks up again. “Give me a moment, Serenity.” She speaks quicker than he can process his thoughts. Lining them up and putting them in place, he originally thought that Owl had been a recluse, perhaps hiding from a dangerous mate or captor, and that his lack of knowledge of her presence here in the forest had been because she had been hiding. It was rare that wanderers found themselves surrounded by the tall birches and oaks of the forest, thus his scepticism. “You don't need to vouch for Owl.” He continues before turning back to the quiet brown mare behind Serenity. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like- but if someone comes knocking on my door in search of you, I will expect an explanation.”