Pale ears flicker nervously atop her skull as tentatitive after tentative step is taken into the Bay. Ash dusted nostrils flare as she sifts through the variety of strange and familiar scents, searching for fresh horse scent. Though at one time Ironclad and Letavice had said it was safe to wander here, since then Warsaw had been beaten back by a nomad mare and Vita Nova had then taken charge to become queen. What that meant for herself and mother was still up in the air but well the foals of the Inlet had dared once another to come here and Tuari was not about to be called a weakling. Pale golden skin, dulled by her thick winter coat, glimmered in the weak sunlight. Ears twitch atop her skull as eyes bright as the summer skies blink slowly over the hills hidden by snow covered forest. Here and there, she imagines that perhaps she can hear the voices of foals laughing and giggling amid games of their own. Were their games similar to the games that were played among the Inlet herd?

A renewed sense of curiosity flamed within her as braver she takes another step forward, slender neck arching as muzzle drops to the frozen ground, searching out the unfamiliar horse scents and hoping that perhaps she might come upon the other foals before the stallion discovers there is an intruder among his borders.