Mares in heat do have a certain appeal. Kestral is not beyond such primal feelings, but not every season is breeding season, and Kestral is glad of it. it's the changing of the seasons that keep life interesting. There is beauty in change. As the rivers bend their banks, and winds round the tops of mountains, the body of a filly becomes the body of a mare.
The smile spreads upon his face, and if his cheeks weren't covered in hair they might be beet red. it's not often that Kestral receives such compliments. "You flatter me.", he says with a flutter of white lashes.
Kestral's eyes, wild and dark, seem to look right through her. There is a moment of silence where he regards the mare with a faraway stare, before he speaks words no nearer to this plane than his gaze. "She'll be as beautiful as her mother."
Visions come to him on the wings of dreams, and he's seen a golden mare with a dark filly at her side. Is it this mare? Dreams don't read in black and white, but Kestral assumes it's her. None other could shine so bright.