The pretty mare cannot help but smile as the two stallions talked. It seemed like they were getting along! Maybe they could both be her friends? The trauma that blocked away everything the mare knew refused to let her realize how edged each word they said truly was. Or the danger of being in the presence of two stallions could be. Instead, she hangs upon the word Salem, her curiosity wondering just how cool an island could be with a name like that. Maybe she could visit it some time? See just how bad a place called the Badlands was. That meant bad, as it awesome right?
“Oh!” she startled when the conversation moved back to her. Wren hadn’t been expecting to be asked any questions and wasn’t prepared to answer any. “Adventure, I suppose.” she answered, though felt a void hanging on her words. Was that really why she was here? Wren couldn’t remember when she had gotten here, or what had brought here. At first she had thought she was born here, but the way Bjorn had been waiting for her reply as well, it was clear they had met somewhere else.
“I’m hardly all alone now. Not with my new friends.” the painted mare said happily. Clearly delighted to be in their company. It was much better than being alone, even if she had been enjoying her game of hide and seek with the hare. But they had homes, and would want to go back to them sooner or later. Wren didn’t want to think about when that would happen, and how she would be alone again.