The unnamed mare is a figure of silent authority and confidence, and Ricochet is reminded faintly of another mare, a red chestnut with a flaxen mane, a woman whose name was Evangeline.
The Incendiary shoves such inflammatory thoughts away.

There is a spark in her steel eyes, an ember he is at first uncertain of until he finds her smile, an impish sort of grin that he likes immediately. She has fire, Ricochet thinks to himself, and it glows through her molten black skin, shines in the depths of her iron eyes, but she exerts an elegant control over it that he is envious of. Where he is volatile and quick to anger, she is collected, controlled, and admirably thoughtful.

“It would be a pleasure to have such company,” the buttermilk boy says softly to her, and he is sincere. There is nothing about her that may whisper fool or dunderhead, idiot or lack-wit, no, if anything it’s the opposite. Too often he finds only dimwitted and dullards, but today… Nieque must be watching over him. Dahlia, she says to him, and he connects the name to this dark little mare, and he finds his spirits lifted, grinning gaily at her. It fits her well. Silently he says thanks to Isilme’s equine ancestor, and turns, glancing over his shoulder to see if she follows. “We should get walking if we want to find shelter before nightfall.” Ricochet calls as he moves away from her. “We can talk on the way, of course.”

As they move through the trees, Dahlia speaks doubtfully of magic. The dunskin stallion pauses in his step, lips twisting into a wry smile. “Magic is more real than not. If you’re lucky, you might be able to meet a god. Most times they’re willing to give you magic, but for a price. Typically they will send you on a… quest of sorts, to prove you truly want it and will work for it.” The Tome Guardian had sent him on such a quest. He had had to find Guns in the caverns, and it was only with the help of his acquaintances that he had managed to complete the task. “That’s part of the reason you have to be very careful with Helovians. Many have powerful abilities, and you can’t tell by just looking if they possess it. So, it’s best not to go around pissing horses off.”
… But Ricochet was the best at going around pissing horses off.

“Guns, here,” he called, teal eyes flicking towards the monochrome collie. Up the dog gets, and he comes obediently, nose twitching and eyes bright, eying Dahlia cautiously. “Guns isn’t my companion, he’s only a pet. If he were a companion, we could communicate telepathically. I know it seems a little far-fetched, but it’s true.” Ricochet explains, and he falls quiet as they move along.

OOC: I think we're about done here! I had them start moving which I hope is okay, if not I can edit the post. I would suggest now going to this thread and requesting Dahlia to become an Outcast. If you are interested in reading more about Ricochet's outcast band, here is the plot thread. We can continue this thread elsewhere if you like! :D