in a holding pattern // to find myself

[Starlin]

STARLIN grit and grace. Starlin has heard the rustling behind her, but she had assumed it was another recruiter, likely close on her tail in order to try and horn in on her conversation. The grullo horse turns, ready to meet a taller gaze – and finds no one. No, she sees, there is something there, a navy blue shape in the brittle winter grass. Starlin narrows her gaze in focus. Ah, she sees. It’s Kahvi. The faint frown on her face turns to a small smile, and she looks back to the perlino mare. The stranger introduces herself as Elindor, a pretty name that Starlin repeats to herself. “It’s nice to meet you,” she adds politely before the perlino asks a question. “Welcome to Beqanna then. I’m from Nerine, as is my little shadow back there.” With a smile, she gestures to the poorly hidden Kahvi, and whickers and invitation for the child to join them. “I’m here to see if anyone in the Field might be interested in coming to live in Nerine.” Starlin says to Elindor, “Are you maybe interested?” The words are well-rehearsed, but do not sound stiff. Starlin has practiced for this – her first trip to the Field – for a long time. She is fortunate, she knows, that she has found someone that hadn’t run away when she’d approached.