The throw of voices is far to much for the curious little silverling to simply ignore. Since coming to the Prairie with Shamwari, she had yet to meet any of the others that called this herdland their home. Paper thin nostrils flare as tiny dished ears stand alert amid the mass of obsidian colored tresses that frame the delicate curves of her sterling face. Deep silver blue eyes flicker back and forth between the two unfamiliar faces as the gentle little dancer steps into the gathering.

Perhaps if she thought back on this moment at a later date, Larka would have thought better than to approach the strangers when she herself still remained a stranger to these lands. But that is then and this is now. A friendly smile flickers across her ash dusted features as the delicate little silverling moves into place alongside Shamwari and the pretty little pale mare. Although the girl is as unfamiliar to her as the dark stallion, she is comforted at least in the presence of the bright copper colored stallion Shamwari.

Tiny, pointed ears stand alert amid the thick layer of hairs that tumble in wild, wind tangled curls against her cheek. Every now and then a soft winter chilled autumn breeze would twist its invisible fingers through them, causing them to appear to have a life of their own. She inhales deeply, sifting through the variety of scents until she manages to pinpoint the strange stallion's own. Like her, he smells different. Though she has been here long enough that already the scents of these lands both strange and familiar are beginning to color her own scent with bits and pieces of this place in much the same way that the dried grasses and fallen leaves of autumn now decorate her unusually long black tail. He was different… he smelled foreign.

Her proud neck arches, ashen muzzle pressing neatly against the concave of her chest cavity as she slowly steps forward towards the midnight Arabian. ”You’re new” she murmurs, lilting tones smooth in their delivery. Though the words are shapes as such one might imagine it a question, it is quite clearly a statement... more matter of fact than anything else. No doubt had her father been here at this time he would have scolded her quite subtly for the manner of which she addressed the stranger, but Larka has always been headstrong and even now in a world so unfamiliar and new to her she finds herself doing things her own way instead of what was perhaps viewed as most customary. No doubt even Shamwari was shaking his head at her bold actions but well, one could not learn without first action. At least that is her opinion anyway.

She lifts her proud head now, depthless blue eyes glittering at him from beneath the thick veil of black forelock that forever seemed to fall across her vision. A single brow arches as she draws her gaze away from him to the silent pale girl beside Shamwari. She offers the girl a friendly smile, mentally making a note to "girl talk" at a later date when the males were far from view. It was customary for the mares of a herd to gather together, and Larka only hoped that she would get along with the girl without having to deal with jealousy or other more tasteless emotions that might color their friendship. Silver blue eyes flit quickly to Shamwari as a gentle smile flickers across her lips at the sight of the his hansom frame. However, her attention once more returns to the black stallion as she blinks slowly up at him, her thick tail flicking neatly against hind hocks as she examines him, taking note the sleek lines and contours of his frame, much more defined and concave than Shamwari. It is clear that like her own family lines, he too shares Arabian descendants in his blood. ”My name is Larka….” she continues, stretching out her teacup sized muzzle to him now, a friendly smile curving across her ash stained lips, ”Are you going to call the Prairie your home now too?” she asks, unable to hide her curiosity.





OOC: thought id throw Larka into the mix of introductions :D