Aren't intruders supposed to be nervous? The thought flutters through her mind uneasily as she stares at the steadfast figure before her, his entire countenance thoroughly unruffled by her appearance in his life and subsequent questions. In truth, Svetka had never approached a stranger before, which was both a perk and detriment of living in Tinuvel and being surrounded by family constantly.

She had no idea what she was supposed to do.

Despite her bravado, Svetka was no leader. Even if the fates had not seen fit to hobble her with her disorder, she would never have been the type of mare to do well with the yoke of responsibility around her shoulders. Her heart was a free-flying bird, hopping from branch to branch and song to song.

Still, her eyes narrowed and she studied him suspiciously, her dark tail switching uneasily over her slender rump. As he dodged each of her questions, she huffed a disgruntled snort and allowed her ears to tip back against her poll, her dark face raising as she stared him down. "Oh? Just a ghost of winters past, then?" Her tone was sarcastic and she rolled her eyes as she spoke before scuffing the snow with her forehoof in emphasis.

"I'm Svetka, and why I'm out of bed is properly none of your business." Mostly because lying didn't come naturally to her and the last thing she wanted to do was explain to this stranger that she was prone to sleep-attacks randomly throughout the day. The attacks themselves didn't afford her any real rest, but the exhaustion that followed them often led her into long naps that thwarted her best attempts at maintaining a normal schedule. "Now that I've given you mine, do you think you can remember your own name, or shall I christen you with one of my own making?"