Strands of black, white, and silver drifted into her line of sight as the mare's head tilted downward. Her gaze lingered there on the surf, watching carefully as the waves crashed onto the cold-packed sand and subsequently dissolved into foam. Zaulane was sure that she could hear the fizz of the spray's bubbles as they popped if she lowered her head but a little. For whatever reason, it delighted her. It reminded the young maiden of an adage from one of her parents -- she couldn't quite discern which had said it --about enjoying the small things in life. That was one skill she had down, at least.
The sounds of steps in the sand drew Zaulane's attention then. Whoever, or whatever, it was was remarkably close by the time the sound had registered in her brain. Inwardly, she winced. Her father would have absolutely
hounded her for not being more aware of her surroundings. He had been a staunch proponent of teaching her to defend herself -- which she had never been particularly good at -- and making sure she could read the world around her. And here she was, messing up at the first opportunity. Perhaps she should have been more guarded. Her sire would have preferred that, but Zaulane was just too friendly and curious for her own good sometimes.
"
The ocean has a way of drawing us to her," a masculine voice mused next to her. Sidling a half-step away to settle her own nerves, the mottled mare hummed a sound of agreement. The sea was captivating indeed. It always would be.
Blue-gray eyes twisted toward the stranger then, lashes fluttering once as her pupils focused on the stallion's face. He was still staring out into the water, but the profile of his face was prominent against the gray sea and the dark sand. The color of his skin reminded Zaulane of the way the sun's warmth slowly seeped back into the world after winter. A soft smile flowered across her pale rosy lips at the simile. It was still there when he turned to her and spoke again.
"
I am Gavriel," he mentioned.
"Of Tinuvel." His hazel gaze seemed to be fixed on her face as he paused. No recognition had sparked in Zaulane's eyes at the land he mentioned. The smile she had moved, shifted into something more of a sheepish sort though no less friendly in nature.
"I am unfamiliar with these lands, I'm sorry to say, Gavriel." The shape of his name formed curiously on her tongue as the mare spoke.
"I have never heard of Tinuvel," she added, pausing only briefly to nervously press her lips together.
"Perhaps you can tell me more about it?" The question hung in the air between them as the mottled female moved again. Her weight shifted to one side, as if to settle in for any tales he would weave about where he had come from. With a flash of a real smile, one that crinkled on the edges of her eyes, she introduced herself:
"I'm Zaulane, by the way."
