The large chestnut had been alone for too long and she could feel it, like an electrical current, when the stallion was near. Her eyes lifted up to him. Helle looks at his face, the bow of his strong neck--her own dark muzzle extends, letting her breath wash over his nostrils. He smelled like dried grass, like pine trees, like salt water. She flicked her ears, one trained on the stallion, the other listening around them for any potential danger.
Helle chuckled at his words, he was charming and she couldn't help the soft smile in return to his own rather boyish grin. Solomon. The chestnut mare nods a little, her back hoof on its toe in a relaxed position. Around them a gentle breeze blew, which picked up the scattered leaves and swirled them all around.
"I am Helle, it's a pleasure to meet you, Solomon," she says to him and lifts her well made head. Her kind, soft eyes look over him and she is pleased by such a broad, gentle stallion coming to her in the middle of the meadow.
"I will do better to send warnings ahead of myself next time," Helle says and laughs softly like the patter of rain against the surface of a lake. "I'm afraid this is all very new to me, Solomon, I've traveled a long while before I got to this meadow--are you from here?"