Meadow

Rafe’s ears prick up when he hears that this other stallion ruled in the Dunes. He’s familiar with the current leader there, Fiero, that silly stallion who had encroached on his home the very night he’d arrived. Had this one lost control, then? Been defeated in battle and cast out? Perhaps he’d left on different terms, willingly abandoning Salem for greener pastures. Whatever the reason, this Bjorn doesn’t live there any longer and with oceans and potentially islands between them, he’s little threat to Rafe. What interests him more is how, even though Bjorn spoke to the mare with a comfortable familiarity and indicated they’d long known one another, she only barely returned the favor - she offered a polite greeting, certainly, but she didn’t move to greet him with a soft touch like he is her herd stallion, or jump to reminiscing on old times like they grew up together. It’s a curious situation - perhaps a ploy designed to encourage Rafe to depart without further question, so there’s less competition for her attention? Perhaps Bjorn is simply overstating the nature of their relationship; if that is the case, Rafe has no intention of giving up quite so easily. It’s a beautiful day, he has plenty of time to kill and certainly getting to know these two will only increase his understanding of how things work on the Crossing Isle.

Rafe doesn’t concern himself for long with the stallion or trying to puzzle out and plan for his possible intentions, because Wren speaks again. He doesn’t understand how she’s lasted until adulthood if this is how she handles interactions with strangers; she’s so immediately trusting, it actually concerns him a bit. He snorts out a soft laugh and murmurs, “You’ll certainly find adventure here.” Upon his approach, his intent had been to lure the pretty mare back to the Badlands with him and while initially it was Bjorn who had put a dent in that plan, now he realizes he doesn’t want any sort of responsibility for a mare so...odd. He can picture her getting turned around in one end of the desert and being unable to make it back to water, wandering the Badlands until nothing is left of her.

As pretty as she is, it’s more than likely she has a herd anyway and Rafe isn’t anywhere close to being well-established enough to go making enemies by mare theft. Truthfully, she reminds him a bit of his sister, when she was young and unfamiliar with the cruel realities of the world outside their insular little herd. Rafe glances to Bjorn, icy gaze assessing before he shrugs. “There’s worse company than us that you could have found, I suppose.” Rafe flicks a quick glance over to Bjorn, including him in the assessment because the tone when he’d introduced himself was firm and protective - Rafe knows a warning when he hears one. He then lets his eyes linger on Wren, curious and still more than a little confused. “You know where my home is, now” he points out. “Where is yours?” Best to figure out just what he's gotten himself into here, and Rafe already knows he won't leave her here alone; he can feel the judgement of his mother from an ocean away for even considering doing anything but offering her whatever help he may need.