Fighting usually left the little dun feeling exhilarated, as if the adrenaline rush had swept out all of the cobwebs clogging up her mind. This time, though, that feeling of relief had almost immediately been replaced by a sense of chagrin and awkwardness. The kind of feeling she hadn't dealt with since she'd been a young girl, enamored by someone who was clearly not even the slightest bit interested in her.

Her whole body felt hot beneath the frosted mare's gaze, but she did her best to conceal the anxious pounding of her heart. Her friend was okay. The cream stallion - Zevulun - would be okay, and the Lagoon was thwarted once more. She had every reason to feel at ease now, but there was not a single cell in her body operating in a calm manner.

"If I had known you were here," Roi began awkwardly, almost apologetically, despite the fact that such an apology belonged to Lir, not to Claret. "I might have stayed the first time." She winced, as if suddenly realizing how that sounded and shook her head minutely. Given how much she had decried a "traditional" life at their first meeting, she had still decided to try it anyway. As if she might mysteriously unlock some part of herself that would be happy with such a quiet life, not stifled. "Sorry, I -" she cut off, ears splaying sideways.

"We had that whole conversation and then I went and tried herd life anyway," she choked out a soft, rueful laugh. It had been foolish of her to think that she would find solace in a herd with a stallion for whom she held but fond affection. She wanted to love Lir. He seemed like a kind, gentle stallion. The sort that would take care of her and keep her best wishes at heart. A stallion who loved his family and would be there to raise them, not abandon his family whenever the whim struck him.

But she didn't. She liked him, the way she'd liked Oswin, but no more than that.

She swallowed and shook her head, realizing that that was probably far too much honesty and rambling for what amounted to a second conversation, especially considering what had happened only moments before. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. It was no thanks to me, really. Your - your father -" the title trips her up and she glances toward the pale stallion with a sense of longing and envy so visceral and deep it makes her belly ache - "had it well under control."