It had always been his way, she supposes. At least as long as she had known him. Always insist all things were possible - the question that always invaded her mind was ‘But what if I do not care if it is possible? What if I do not want the possibility at all?’ He has heard his women speak, and she knows that she cannot be allowed to be Lead Mare with the assignment of battle in the job description. She would not impede her children, born or soon-to-be, by doing them the disservice of risking their lives and her own. If she was mother first, her decision is rendered irresponsible at best and catastrophic at worst. If lead mare was to be what it had been in her homeland’s herd - she would have thrived. She would watch children, raise them with their mothers, lead them to water and food, make sure they pursued the correct heading -- but battle was for those who did not have children to mind. Predators were an understood exception, but battering hooves? No.

"My love, if your Lead Mare must do war, must fight as a man does-- I cannot be fit for such a position. I would be able to love you fiercely, to guide and lead as my nature is prone to do.... But my home has a different perspective on the manner a Lead Mare may serve than you do. I could not risk my children nor my future children by dabbling in challenges." She basks in the touches he provides her, sighing into them as a lover should do. "I cannot help you win battles - but if you need a woman to stand beside you in the Old Way, I will be second to none." Her fervency of tone only grows as his touch trails down the round edge of her jaw and she encourages him to speak his mind.

His answer makes her smile with a small chuff of a laugh to expose her good humor. He was beginning to speak a language more to her understanding. A stallion’s drive was a incredibly attractive thing, she ponders silently. "The Commons, I think, would be a good start. So many lost souls there alone and insecure."