Her gaze falls on him, heavy and assessing as always. He does not react as her dark eyes slide over his coat, instead taking the chance to look over her himself. She has a rich, dark coat, much like Velahrn; she’s finely built, slim, muscular lines that contrast to his own heavier bulk. She looks to be of the desert, like she would thrive in his home. Her gaze meets his, and she offers a quip about death. Rafe huffs out an amused little breath; that isn’t the tone he expected, but the sentiment is valid. All life ends; this he knows. Rafe has just always been of the opinion he will choose how he goes out - and that choice has no room for freezing to death in a barren meadow, or falling to a bunch of overgrown children, so inept they cannot function in a herd and instead hide together, harry mares and colts alike.
She asks her next question, and Rafe looks away. There is no doubt in his mind that he is the greatest danger wandering this Meadow tonight. How many others here hold their own mares captive? How many make them bleed for simply wanting freedom? He shrugs, an easy confidence to his movement before he finally murmurs, “I have yet to venture anywhere I am not the monster.” He isn’t sad, feels no shame for this truth, and shares it only as a fact. The quiet ease in his voice shows just how truly he holds this opinion, how convinced he is of his own danger.
He glances away then, gaze skating over the frozen expanse before them. Perhaps that was too serious after her moment of levity, and so Rafe looks back to her, quirking a small smirk her way. “Or did you mean to tell me you have some sort of ill intent?” Perhaps this is fate, come to collect on his sins. Perhaps she is his due, for the battle he won against Velahrn, for th harsh reality of his own self that he flees.