Valefar successfully ventures a fair distance before he finds himself caught. There is a soft sound of movement and the scent of a young mare just barely out of foalhood, and Val freezes. His witness freezes as well, and there is a long moment of silence while the pair of night owls study each other through scent and the prickling knowledge of presence close by.
Then, Val sees the glint of eyes.
The voice that warns him is confident, but not aggressive. Valefar is impressed; he can tell how young this mare is by her scent and the pitch of her voice, though the tone could have belonged to someone older and bolder. He smirks in the darkness. How lucky I must be, then, to have been caught by you first, he says. His voice is quiet, but almost conspiratorial, as though his presence in this place were a great secret shared only by the two of them. And how lucky for you that I am not here with harmful intent, though I understand the cover of darkness is quite suspicious. I will admit, I am a mischievous creature, but nothing unwholesome. It’s not exactly a lie; Val hadn’t come to Tinuvel for the express purpose of stepping on someone’s toes, but toe-stepping doesn’t violate his personal moral code either. This is a more interesting opportunity than toe-stepping, anyway.
Val takes a step back, creating a void between himself and the young mare. He shifts beneath a narrow shaft of moonlight, revealing a bit more of himself to her than was previously visible in the dark. He hopes she will step forward, filling the void and allowing him to see her, as well. What keeps you up so late at night? he asks, his voice both curious and sympathetic. My wanderlust grows the strongest when the moon is out, which is inconvenient for my beauty sleep. I need every moment I can get. He chuckles quietly at his own joke, knowing he still resembles something slightly less fortunate than a drowned rat.