Kune lifted his eyes to regard the mare quietly. He marveled at the way she wore her emotion so nakedly, when to do the same went against all his male strážce instincts. Yet he knew how she felt all the same, if not why she felt the way she did. The shock of meeting another of his kind mixed with the deep grief sitting like a stone in his gut, and made him feel like his heart was going to burst. It was too much. This could not be real.
He did not reply, not at first. He let his eyes roam her physique again, marvelling at the details of her appearance, the realness of her hair, the deep colors of her teary eyes. Even her breath misted in the chilly winter air, just like his own. If there was one thing he knew about the spirits, however, it was that they worked in mysterious ways. He had never seen a vision or ghost before: he had only heard stories, the same stories everyone heard in their childhood. He had always imagined that they would materialize with some ethereal glow or transparent glimmer... but reality and imagination were often different.
Kune chanced a tiny step closer to the mare, the branches of the thicket swaying and whispering with his movement. He looked her directly in the eye, forgoing all propriety. "Božena ... Jsi skutečný? Odkud jsi přišel?"
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