Papillion could never be called the sharpest tool in the shed. Over the whistling of the wind she did not hear a second set of hoof beats against the ground. Nor did she sense the watchful gaze upon her spotted hide. She didn’t expect anyone to be following her. Why would anyone be following her? She didn’t consider herself to be important and the only individual that would notice her absence was absent himself.

The whicker that broke the silence of the night caused Papillon’s head to jerk skywards in shock. She would have probably bolted a few paces forwards had she been lighter on her feet and not tired from the long trek. Turning her attention towards the approaching mare the confusion was obvious across her face. She did recognize this mare from the Arch, that black curly mane was very distinctive and easily recognizable, even in the pale moonlight. But Papillion did not have a name to put to the face since she had only seen this herd member from a distance and had never been formally introduced.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm herself from being startled she finally answered the question."I think … I think I will be fine," she spoke softly so as not to draw any unwanted attention towards them. "Why did you follow me? Are you here to take me back?” The painted mare tried to sound calm but the fear was still present in her voice and her blue eyes. She wasn't afraid that this mare was going to physically hurt her. It would be rather sadistic to be concerned about someone's welfare and then attack them. She was afraid that she had made a bad decision and now had to face the consequences.