Charybdis had noticed the movement in the corner of her eye, but it was only when the rumble of a strange voice drew her flattened ears up did she realise the shadowy figure was real. Startled, and shaken awake by his words, Charybdis turned and stalked toward the unknown stallion, every step deliberate and bold. The distance between them was gone, and Charybdis stood before him, her expression guarded, and though her body trembled (in anticipation of action), there were no undertones of aggression to be found in her posturing.

"It isn’t for me to know such t’ings, or seek to determine de path dat is mine to walk," she replied, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she fixed them upon the stranger’s face. What would he make of that, she wondered, and more importantly, what did he make of her? The stillness of the night mingled with her melancholy, setting her on edge. It felt like some kind of test, the question he’d posed. "De only hope for me is dat I might recognise salvation when ‘im deign to show ‘imself before my eye."

With that said, Charybdis afforded herself a moment to get a good look at him, but she knew well enough that the outward appearance only afforded one a sliver of what was true. In a way, she herself was an example of that. But still, the half-blind mare couldn’t help but muse aloud. "But you… What manner of sphinx be you? To hide yourself wit’ such a guise, like a cloak of shadow in de mist. To ask such t’ings of me." He certainly broke the mold; he was no formidable foe come to lay heavy judgment upon her. But then, maybe that was why he was here.

Nothing like the unexpected to catch one unawares.