Meadow

Even without her call, the silver-haired woman was the sort who would’ve drawn eyes to her.

Darkling swept her eyes over the stranger’s figure, recognizing the unconscious authority in her bearing. Fighting against the deference that had become second nature over the years, she met the mare’s gaze directly. And forced herself to hold it even as the mare offered criticism disguised as courtesy. Ah, so she was one of those. It occurred to Darkling that she was free to roll her eyes whenever she pleased now - but old habits were such dreadful things to break.

The silk-cushioned trail it would be, then. For now.

“Apologies, lady. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you with my briny stink.” She offered, her tone as soft as the tread of a hunting cat. “And I’m afraid you caught me in the midst of ignorance, too. I’m not exactly certain where these Peaks are - though it sounds like that knowledge wouldn’t be particularly useful to me in any case.”

A pause, a breath. The soft curve of a smile lifting her lips, its warmth pooling in both her voice and gaze just enough.

“You, on the other hand - you seem extremely useful. Perhaps even useful enough to offer non-hygiene-related advice to a woman in need.” Darkling was practically purring herself now, enjoying this play of batting words about while keeping her claws carefully sheathed. But she couldn’t let herself get too drunk on the thrill of her freedom. A single misstep and she could go tumbling down a figurative embankment that would put the one before her to shame.

“The name’s Darkling, by the way,” she offered with the mental equivalent of a shrug. It didn’t particularly matter to her what this stranger called her, so long as she kept speaking. Any stray comment might be useful information that she could tuck away for later use. The slip of a name, the mention of a place - these Peaks, for instance. Clearly a place worth remembering, even if the silver bay spoke of it with the faintest note of distaste. Perhaps even because she’d spoken of it with distaste.

“In any case, as a newcomer who’s already offended the locals with my smell-” Darkling gave a soft laugh to show her own lack of offense. “What should I do to avoid any further transgressions? Besides drowning myself in clover, of course. Which I will hasten to do the moment your oh-so-polite tolerance has reached its limit.”

At this point she relinquished the silver woman’s gaze to pick her way carefully down the stream’s bank. But even as she lowered her muzzle to the water, her dark ears were tipped back to catch any words that her new acquaintance might speak. Perhaps it was a bit impolite of her to drink in the midst of conversation, but Darkling wasn’t too concerned with first impressions.

In fact, there were certain advantages to being unremarkable at a glance.