The evening grew saturated with a golden light. The sun setting over the west cast its golden light over the prairie like a blanket. Caught in the golden hour a creamy pearl filly reflected the sunbeams off her metallic hide. She raked her hoof of pinkish pearl over the ground to roughen up the grasses and sift through the clovers. Several herbs would be among the grasses to collect and use easily.
A curious eye caught the shifting shadow of the stallion cloaked in his hide of storms, Uruk, emerging from the thick and thorny briar. His mane and tail are a mess of bracken and detritus. Not typically one to approach a stallion herself, she does spy a few dark red marks upon his stormy sides and nickers toward him. Her dealings with him were few before now as she typically tried to avoid the attention of stallions. She'd blame both her parents for instilling a base fear of strange men in her. She had only been a yearling when she got separated from her family.
Her nostrils flared at him as she caught the scent of blood. She knew he was the new lead stallion of the herd, but he also just killed a few other horses for weakly standing against him. She needed to be useful, and brave to remain on their good side. Should she call him Lord? Or Sir? Or his name?
"I can help those thorn marks... Make them feel better, stop the bleeding..." She said pulling herself closer to him and opting to drop all monikers. Her bright blue eyes watched him warily in case she should bolt or kick him if he took offense to her suggestion. There were plenty of herbs about here that she could find on the fly to help him.
