He listened as the mare says a word, one which he had never heard before. It could be a place, a name, a fantasy; he didn’t know, but he let it be as he continued to watch as confusion clouded her eyes and the filly by her side seemed to grow ever more upset by the mare’s erratic behavior. It was then that the white splashed red woman spoke once more, and while it didn’t make complete sense, it was certainly more coherent than whatever the thing was she said earlier. His face fell, unsure of how to help despite wanting to do so for the pair. His lips pulled back in a slight frown and he mulled over his words before speaking then. He did not want to frighten them while they were already on edge. After a few heartbeats, he tried. “I think perhaps I should stay with you to make sure you two are both safe.” It was a tentative statement, but he did not feel as if she were in a right enough mind for him to walk away, especially with having a young one by her side. “My name is Rilke, what are yours?”
Perhaps introductions would lead to conversation, something which might distract her from whatever torments she was going through. Fall had began, cold creeping into the air, stallions creeping about. He knew without a home she was in danger from the brutes who had no manners, no sense of propriety, and despite not knowing them he felt it his duty to stand by and ward them. The painted stallion would offer them a home, protection, but he wasn’t sure how she would take that if he immediately offered. It would seem pushy and forced, neither of which were in his nature. Instead he stood by and waited, hoping she would settle and gather her thoughts in a moment of clarity. Whether she had a home she could go to, or came back with him, his only concern was that she was safe. He had known too deep a loss and couldn’t bear any more whether it be his own or another’s.