Common

The other mare seems unperturbed by Rethe's tenseness and she isn't certain how she feels about that. It is in her nature to act first and think later, but there is precious little acting to be done here. This wasn't like when a wolf was a stalking a newborn foal or when a hawk was soaring overhead looking for a wayward rabbit. There was no hostility here, and the lack of it made her uneasy.

Tefnut answers her question without malice, but the implication in her words that she has observed Rethe close enough to read her body language makes the dark mare tense again. Being perceived has never been her favorite; it makes her feel vulnerable and on display. Even so, she hardens her face in response, determined not to be read so easily again. Callused hands pull shutters across her expression with practiced ease, leaving a strange blankness in its wake that lasts only long enough for Tefnut to speak again.

Anything can make someone else look like a threat. She flinched, mildly insulted by the insinuation that Rethe saw her as a threat. Words bubble up before she can think them through, indignant in their sharpness. "I didn't think you were a threat." Just nosy, she thinks to herself, though she can feel Kohelet scowling at her rudeness, even in her mind. Reuniting with her mother in the Bay had not softened any of Rethe's sharp edges, but it had afforded her the ability to know when she'd gone too far. Even if it didn't always stop her from doing it.

"What are you doing here?" She asks bluntly, skipping over the compliment. She knows there are mare leaders, of course. Her own aunt was one, once. But this mare does not carry herself with the same sort of bravado that Rethe has always associated with leaders. With real leaders, she corrects herself, and then corrects herself again, deflating slightly at the shoulders. Sihtric had not carried himself the way her father did and he'd been a leader, too.

At first, going with him to the Badlands had been nothing more than a way to try and find her father. But as time went on and he remained distant, stung by her poor attitude in the Commons, a part of her had grown wistful. She liked to blame it on the desolate loneliness of the Badlands, but the truth was that a part of her wanted what Kohelet and Fell had, even as her logical mind rebelled against it. Her mother was dumb. She acted out of blind emotion and had harmed them all, badly, because of her lack of loyalty. And yet, Rethe could not unsee the way her parents had looked at each other again. The way they melted into each other when they touched.

It was gross, or it had been, anyway.

Now she wondered if such a thing would ever be hers to have.