Meadow

The ebony mare's own rebirth upon the island shores had been no less cumbersome than that of the petite brown mare's. Bagheera watches from a distance while she allows her bright canary eyes to absorb the arrival unfolding before her. She is a creature of observation, preferring to conduct her life in some essence of the shadows, yet she is concerned that the mare before her may need assistance as the sea's unforgiving fingers continue to lap dangerously at the legs of the other woman. She can empathize with the exhaustion swimming leaves hanging over the whole body as keeping one's head above water quickly becomes a tiresome chore. Her breath is caught within tightening lungs and is only released once the small statured mare moves shakily from within reach of those demanding waves.

She is aware that the frozen lands are another unrelenting challenge - especially when met with still damp skin and dripping fur. Worry quickly furrows her brow as the unaware subject of her troubles remains in a vulnerable position upon the open terrain. Unshielded from the biting winter wind, the other mare will dry quickly, but the frigid temperatures will make the process unpleasant. At least the girl is refueling herself by consuming the grass resilient enough to not retreat underneath heavy frosts. A sigh that mimics the one elicited from the brown woman comes from Bagheera's lips as she makes the decision to leave her solitude.

Long legs propel forward her lithe yet muscular body across the frost encrusted terrain. She slinks across the few yards separating her from the stranger, offering an attempt at a friendly nicker so as not to startle the girl. She pauses with enough distance maintained between them to avoid immediate attacks and also to proctor the sense of safety despite her intrusion. Bagheera has never been one to waste time with useless words and she has been vocal about the fact that the protection of the Peak is her strong suit. The dark woman has never been one with the skills needed for recruitment though in truth she has never tried. She lingers in the last moments of silence, languishing in them, before she parts her lips to speak. "Hello...I am Bagheera, warrior of the Peak. Are you alright?" The words taste heavy upon her tongue like a foreign food she is unaccustomed to tasting. Her gaze fixes upon the girl, waiting, acutely aware that her words are rather redundant yet choosing to leave them hanging upon the crisp air either way.