They walk for what seems like hours but eventually settle in a spot that isn’t as secluded as they would have chosen years prior. Zephyra is less uptight than she used to be, though she is still the more cautious and rational of the pair. Nymphadora is still carefree, though not as impulsive. They’ve both found a happy medium.
Each sister takes her turn pawing through the light layer of snow to reach the dead grass below. While the taste isn’t ideal, they’re both used to it, considering all the time they’ve lived on Tinuvel. At least here, the grass is plentiful and they can take it freely.
They still haven’t spoken since watching the sunrise, but they don’t need to. Being together since the moment of their creation has allowed them to know each other better than they could ever know anyone else. While there isn’t truly an empathic or telepathic link, they can communicate wordlessly with ease.
Zephyra has her head down, grazing contentedly, when Nymphadora nips her shoulder. She snorts in surprise; her sister’s teeth rarely find her skin - it’s usually the other way around. Her black head lifts and she searches Nymphadora’s face questioningly. The blue roan gestures to the left, beckoning Zephyra’s gaze in that direction.
”Stallion,” Nympadora says, unnecessarily as Zephyra’s nostrils have already flared and caught the masculine scent. She settles for a curious expression, milder than the one her sister always offers. Even now, Nymphadora’s amber eyes gleam with that curiosity.
The speckling on the male’s bay hide isn’t anything the sisters have seen before and that only adds to Nymphadora’s intrigue. Her smile is friendly as he approaches, taking note of his light build. He has hardly any extra layering to his coat, so the girls assume he lives on Salem, where the temperature wouldn’t often drop enough for his body to realize it needs the winter thickness.
They don’t recognize the words that fall from his lips but they both like the smoothness of the language. ”Hello,” Nymphadora replies in greeting, assuming that the foreign words had likewise been one.
This stallion doesn’t put out any warning bells like Orkaan had, so Zephyra is comfortable enough to speak as well. ”Winter sunrises do look like colors painted onto the sky. Today’s seemed particularly colorful - did you see it?”
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