He watches her, his brilliant sapphire eyes curious. Their depths still hold a sense of urgency and concern, however; she is still nameless and, as of right now, parentless. Her presence is welcomed (as she did not seem to be an imminent threat to the residents of Tephra) and the young, auburn girl was neither in distress nor tears. For that, Warrick was thankful. This seems like it would be an easy problem to fix, with a simple solution – find her guardians and get her on her way home to Sylva.
She is unaware to the fact that she has entered another territory. Of course, such a young and naïve child wouldn’t know the first thing about where lands melded into other lands – she also didn’t seem to understand that losing sight of her family could be considered a dire situation. She is bold, though. He would give her that. She was unafraid and fearless as she addressed him, and he almost tells her that she is lucky he had been the one to happen upon her; who knows what another horse (or even another animal) might have done to a trespassing filly.
Warrick’s gaze flickers past the filly as she points out her trail of dead grass that was left in her wake, and the stallion smiles. “Breadcrumbs?” he asks amusedly, his eyes finding hers once again. Her gaze is wandering, maybe searching for someone, a companion, that she probably thinks is hiding somewhere in the shadows nearby (and Warrick desperately hoped so).
His black tail flicks idly against his mahogany haunch as she questions him, cobalt-tipped ears listening intently. Brows rise in amusement at her attempt to describe her mother and brother. Warrick tosses his head in response, black tendrils of mane and forelock cascading down his auburn neck and face. “The only one I’ve seen is you, child. What is your name?”
w a r r i c k