I am Mauja, of nowhere. She titled her head slightly, smile still etched upon her lips, as his voice reached her ears. His own smile (because she did not notice its hesitance) gave her some hope that this meeting would not end in bloodshed. As for the words, she was instantly drawn to a conversation she had had in the not so distant past, with Ktulu. The black and gold mare had called herself 'of nowhere in particular' as well. And, just as she had then, the girl spoke with the naïve understanding of a child, the childlike enthusiasm of the popular girl that was the life of the party, always surrounded by friends or family, neighbors or strangers, but always happiest when she didn't have to be by herself. “That sounds lonely. Don't you want a home? Don't you have friends you could stay with?”

The poor girl meant nothing by it, no rudeness in her voice, no accusation in the way she looked upon him now, she just didn't understand, nor did she know the stallion's name. As the wind blew against her, lifting her mane up and setting it down on her other side, the girl thought back for a moment to the year she had wandered alone, after the fire had ravaged her previous land. Even then she had done everything she could to keep company with others. And where she couldn't find horses she found rabbits, or frogs, or butterflies. It didn't matter to the girl that the creatures couldn't talk back to her- she had always found plenty to say on her own. What was life if you weren't sharing it with others?

Taking another step towards the spotted stallion, for the girl had no concept of personal boundaries, she looked to the sky, trying to find the source of the noise that had drawn her attention to the stallion in the first place, as she did not see a bird upon his back. For a moment she had difficulty, the OrangeMoon sun washing out the sky and making her search for the white owl a vain one. But eventually her eyes grew accustomed to the light and where she thought she saw a flicker of movement, she looked harder, finally finding the bird's form. An owl. Even the simple girl was aware that owls did not usually fly in the daytime. A companion?

“Is it yours?” Her innocent face turned back to the stallion, a bright new spark alight in her eyes. She had yet to meet a companion she didn't like. Even Gaucho's strange, slithering Mara that lived in his antlers was nice in her own way. “Good-looking,” she added on later, still avoiding gender specific words, unsure of which was one would be correct, or if Mauja did in fact call the bird friend and companion. Perhaps this meeting wouldn't be so bad after all.