Feray only said that her mother could not care for her.

Though Evren retains her careful mask of composure, she feels a coldness trickling into her gut as though she's swallowed ice-cold water. She is not about to tell Solomon the full story, however: that Arkana had not been unable to so much as unwilling to care for Aysu.

In retrospect, however, she can see now how unsuited her daughter would have been to the role of motherhood. Even in the weeks in which Feray had lingered in the Forest following the fillies' births, Evren had seen how low and withdrawn Arkana had been: spending entire days alone, away from the herd, rarely speaking to anyone and avoiding any areas in which Feray and the fillies frequented.

Evren's lips only lift slightly, in the ghost of a strained smile, as Solomon attempts to lighten the mood and speaks of how Aysu fares in the Badlands. Evren's grief sits like a stone in her throat, and hearing all this intensifies its heaviness tenfold. She drops her eyes briefly, blinking rapidly to disperse their sudden glassy shine and fumbling helplessly for what little composure she has left. Evren has always worn her heart on her sleeve, but baring it in the presence of stallions is not something she's fond of doing.

They landed alright, but I can't say that their reception was… warm.

Evren lifts her shining eyes to carefully study Solomon's face, searching for the truth in what he does not say. He seems honest, and the picture he has painted in her mind worries her, but she does not know how trustworthy he is. She knows nothing about him, other than the little Feray has told her. Handsome and charming as he may be, he is still a man, and Evren's experiences of men have taught her to take anything they say with a grain of salt.

At the very least, his words have made her need to make a trip to the Badlands all the more urgent.

She remains uncharacteristically quiet until the stallion addresses her with a direct question. "Yes," she croaks, then takes a moment to clear her throat once again. "I'm glad I still look young enough for you to assume she's my first." Her lips pull sideways in a wry smile that quickly fades at his next question, and she meets his green gaze sheepishly, realizing what she'd said about Arkana must have sounded somewhat ominous.

Evren shakes her head briskly, causing her dark forelock to fall over one copper eye. "Oh, thank you, but she's fine. Just... young," she replies evasively, hoping Solomon will garner her meaning. She has no desire to launch into a heated rant about her daughter's very private circumstances, but she finds herself reluctantly touched, nonetheless, that Solomon had offered such a thing - if a little suspicious as to why he would do so in the first place. Does he know Arkana? Had they run into one another during the girl’s reckless excursions last year?

Having more or less recovered her composure, the steely gleam has just returned to Evren's eyes when a resounding crack echoes through the trees behind her. With her nerves already taught as the strings of a finely-tuned fiddle, she whips her head around and jolts forward without thinking, nearly barging straight into Solomon. The moment lasts just an instant, but his closeness, his musky scent, and the heat of his body is all enough to shake the rational thoughts from her brain. She backtracks immediately, hooves crunching through the fallen leaves, and feels her cheeks burn as she looks at him with mild horror.

"Gods, sorry," she mutters, shaking her head briskly. "I'm all over the place recently. Um, didn't you say you had a second favor to ask?"

As she looks back at him, keeping her gaze steady in spite of the urgent longing to tear it away like a shamed little filly, she feels a hot stab of desire and becomes aware that she's in danger. Persephone, she thinks, remembering her vow to the roan mare: the mare who can do no wrong, who has never been anything but good and kind and patient, even in Evren’s darkest, most selfish, and impulsive moments. Evren wills for her to appear from between the half-naked trees: to intervene before Evren does something she’ll regret. But of course, no such thing happens.

The Forest is quiet; Evren and Solomon are very much alone.