The sudden shout of her name made her jump in surprise, and she turned her wide brown eyes toward the black stallion as he hurried over to her at a strange gait. It took her a moment to grasp what was wrong, and as her gaze roved over his wounds with horror, she hastened to close the gap between them so he didn't have to travel as far.

Guilt suffused her at his words and her head ducked low in shame, saddened that she had given him any reason to believe she was absent. She had been quiet, yes, but she had never truly left his side. A part of her - small thought it was - bristled at his easy assumption that she was so easily separated from him. "I am here," she assured, him brow furrowed and gaze conflicted. "I wouldn't leave you," she murmured stubbornly, ears tipped slightly back as she reached with her muzzle to try and touch him, as much to comfort herself as it was to greet him.

"What happened to you?" The last she'd seen of him, he'd been more or less cozying up to a dark bay mare - a fact she'd done her absolute best to not be jealous of and failed miserably at. At that point, he'd still been safe and whole. "Did she hurt you?!" Margarita's voice rose with anger and her head lifted, some of that earlier sadness and worry abating with the prospect of an opponent she could fight.