From behind her came a lithe young mare of dark and light, a broken pattern painted across her skin. The stranger was young, perhaps somewhat around Carys's own age, and with the qualities possessed in the youth Carys turned her ears toward her and stopped on the sand, watching. When she came close enough the little gold and white mare stretched out her neck, flared her nostrils and took in the scent only to find it seemed vaguely familiar. She didn’t have a name and she couldn’t remember seeing this girl before but she had smelled her on nearly every path she’d ever discovered in the hard-rock formed Badlands. Every little crevice or shallow pool, it had been as if this girl’s scent was interwoven.

This was another mare of Bayard’s, perhaps? A family member that had been uprooted as Carys had been?

Carys blinked and smiled kindly, though her gaze momentarily strayed to the curled ears the other filly possessed. They were such curiously wonderful things, how they bent inward and nearly touched! Still, it would be quite rude to stare, so Carys corrected her gaze and took a small step forward and then another until her lips could softly touch the others duo-colored coat. “I’m Carys,” she said with her kind, sweet and soft voice, a voice that fit her all too well. Her blue eyes shone like gems against her pink rimmed lids and she blinked before looking out back across this desert, her pale cream hair sticking to her sweaty skin. “You wouldn’t happen to know where a watering hole is around here, would you?” Carys wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Swinging her head back so she could look at the girl again, she smiled.