Immediately, he's like every other adult I've met, someone who was older than me and treated me as if that next season I wouldn't be two years. I'm not so young anymore, and maybe in the past, I would of said it. Only now am I forced to swivel my ears backwards, drooping them to the sides at a slight angle with my tail between my legs because my fight died when my friends deemed me a 'monster.' I'm not that, but the past doesn't change at will.
He asks about my name before I can answer his first question, piling on more and more for me to answer. I drink in both before my tongue is able to twitch at how I should respond. "Sikeax, but a lot called me Sia. I'm only near you because our paths crossed." Rude, like she probably was much more when I wasn't around. I've seen her do it in the past, and I know she did it harsher when I wasn't there.
Recovering illness is brought up. The cool night air is bittersweet, running knife tipped fingers across my skin with a gentle caress. Shivering slightly, I'm reminded that southern life is much different than northern life. I can't go back without betrayal, and up there, there's no one to keep you company when you're lonely. My face frowns, plastered with annoyance over how rude he is. Leaving and getting back to finding what I came here for seems a better idea by each second.
"I'm here for mint leaves, for my cold, which I'm-" Cut off from finishing by a loud whinny, so shrill in the dark hours that I back pedal in instinctive response, stamping a hoof in obvious discomfort. The whites of my eyes faintly roll forth before feminine vocals come like a Nightingale.
She, whose name is Dröm, wants my name, like the male did. Finally, my tail moves slowly from between my hind legs and my ears move into a neutral position, moving randomly for the first sign of more. There's no chance of getting out of here now, and my chest, heavy with illness, feels tight with discomfort. I wanted herbs, not a miniature herd.
"Sikeax, but please, call me Sia." I try to scape out the sickness from my voice, turn my head away if I might sneeze to sure it wasn't sprayed on them. Tonight wasn't for first impressions, the tangles in my mane and unruly fashion of my coat(though it was always that way) telling that this was meant for me to get what I wanted and leave. Hopefully this will end quick, and the sneezes I fire won't go in the wrong direction.

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