There’s movement -- and it’s not from her own advancement in the jungle. She gives pause, ears pointing forward with curiosity… only for the kindling within her heart to be sparked to life by the pyres of anxiety. Her ears would swivel back as the shadow draws closer, the intensity in her face building up to something stern and sharp, her tail actively swishing with frustration, her feet nervously pawing… That is, until his form becomes more clear and he is no longer a shadow, far off in the backdrop making noise in her direction. He was large -- perhaps the largest horse she’d ever laid eyes on, and in one sudden instant that she was not prepared for, her mind was a buzz with countless unnecessary questions. Such as what he was eating to make him such an impressive specimen, because she wanted some of it, too. The tension within her seemed to lessen as she realizes she’s not in immediate danger. ‘Seemed’ being the key word… For her ears remained back, and her expression was still quite sour at such a spooky introduction. It would be a funny story to tell, at least, when they were more familiar with one another, and she was comfortable.

He offered his nose, to which she tentatively would extend hers out in greeting. The pattern and strength at which his puffs of breath are quickly committed to memory, as was the unique signature of his scent. The whiskers of his muzzle brush and tickle hers, which would have made the mare give an offended squeal all the while striking and stomping of her forelegs. It is an important distinction that she wasn’t exactly aiming for Temblor, as much as she seemed to tell him that he was close enough, and should he push her, she’d not hesitate to choose violence. It was humorous, really. She was a stranger to Temblor, and yet she had the audacity to treat him as though he were the intrusive one upon the shores of his home: But then, some mares, no matter breed or rearing ran hot. Firestorm, as her name implied, most certainly fit within that category.

She took a moment to look him over once again. He was a very fine looking specimen, for a stallion. Which was a most unusual thought for the ever demanding Firestorm -- she usually leaned towards judging spirit, than appearances. For she’d known many a disappointing horse who she’d thought were quite beautiful and handsome, and then quite fearsome and protective (which were important qualities to her) while appearing scraggly with hunger and poor grooming. Or, she tried to… With that in mind? She still can’t resist feeling that he was quite handsome. Tall, dense with muscle, and with a practically luminous coat that grew steely and dark in certain regions. Sundapples pointed out by rays of gold daylight covered him in haphazardly placed spots that glows brightly against him, which only seemed to add ambiance to the moment. Unfortunately for Temblor, her immediate favor only means one thing: Trouble.

“ Exploring. “ she answered rather honestly. “ I grew bored of waiting with the hope that a capable leader would reveal themselves to me, among the ‘Commons’. “ Firestorm explains. Which would have told Temblor a handful of things: Firstly, that this mare was unclaimed. And as far as he could smell, the only scent that clings to her is the sea, and the sands of his very own beach. Secondly, this mare had very high standards and expectations. Third and final, was that she was fearless, for she knew what lay beyond the shores and still she invited herself into someone’s home, risking her freedom.

The truth was, Firestorm doesn’t consider a claim, should one be placed upon her, a loss of any kind, nor an ending. For Firestorm was an ambitious mare, and she was the furthest from the sort to let anyone stand in the way of her desires. Firestorm desired a family as any horse might, and such would be achieved with or without the proverbial bite of ownership. For her, it was not so much of an oppressive, obstructive thing in her life as so many complained that it was, for them. “ Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have clover and water to find. “ she replies with a humorous amount of entitlement, and she would have attempted to stride past the dappled stud, like this were any ordinary common space.