Certainly the stallion was a character, quite animated, as she expected most young ones to be. Although he hadn’t the air of a colt he certainly had the air of one who had little worries. It was these lone stallions that one had to watch out for. Usually casting about to catch a mare or mature filly off guard or to lay claim to a territory that was not their own. And with Macabre’s own shocked look at the stallion Lillith was to wonder if perhaps she should have tried to herd the stallion off, although in her state she would be a lumpy and ineffective in doing so.

He was speaking quickly and his accent was hard to decipher if she didn’t listen closely enough but at his mention of the sea-claimed city that took place in human-lore Lillith felt the corner of her lip quip up with an amused grin, but one look from Macabre and she smoothed the expression. Lillith could only give her head a tilt and shift her shoulder slightly in an equine-style shrug. She hadn’t invited him into the territory. By the sound of it he had struggled in the channels between the islands and landed upon their shores.

“Think he washed up, the sea is rough come winter.” Although she was not born upon these islands her home had black sand beaches she was raised upon before she had moved to the moors with her lover. The sea was not a stranger to Lillith. Reaching back to his comment about being dead she replied, “Far from it, although we cannot guarantee your status for long, best make your intentions clear.” Indicating her muzzle to the flaxen mare and her previous questions. Lillith wasn’t interested in sidling away from her companion, they were better together than on their own.