The arrival of another stallion did not fill me with ease, given that he was unfamiliar to me. For all that I knew initially, he could have been an assistant of the young gray, or even a potential vulture, sensing and opportunity for chaos and theft. His gesture of respect gave me some measure of comfort, but I still kept a watchful eye on him lest he decide to switch sides. I wasn't close enough to read if he smelled of the Lagoon or not, and I did not recognize him, but that didn't necessarily mean he didn't belong.

The gray mare seemed to take his and the other stallion's arrival in stride, showing wisdom beyond her years as she weighed the risks and decided it was not worth an immediate fight. Before me, the slender form of Lavender rose, though she looked weak and unsteady. The sight both enraged and alarmed me; the anger came from the knowledge that someone had tried to take her from me while she was barely strong enough to walk, without regard for her condition. The alarm, though, was new.

It felt like worry, only I didn't worry about things as trivial as my trinket's health. I certainly didn't worry about comforting them, let alone wanting to help them. And yet… I found myself mirroring her reach for me, blowing a soft breath against her muzzle.

Yaga's words snap me from whatever spell-like trance Lavender had woven and I shook my head to clear it, stepping around her now that the gray mare had backed off a little. My gaze flicked to the other new arrival, the stallion I did not recognize, and I considered him for a long moment. My position as Marauder meant that it was important for me to know our members, and yet I did not know him.

"Why don't you make sure she leaves, and then you and I can talk." I say quietly, finality in my tone. I wasn't a particularly authoritative Marauder usually, but perhaps it was time I start taking a more influential role in my own well-being.

I would turn, then, to Lavender and force a mask across my face to hide the strange well of confusion she had struck. "Are you alright?" I ask, forcing my tone to something akin to apathy, although the intensity behind my gaze might very well give up the ghost. I didn't like it… but a part of me cared what her answer was.

Stallion - Young Adult - 15.2 - Brown Overo