The reflection of the fear coursing through the mare shimmers in her eyes. Eyes that stare wide and expansive back at Willow. She stiffens. Fear often leads to anger and anger often leads to pain. A beast of her size is not swift and her hooves know only how to grab the ground, not to leave it in a kick.
Feathers rustle as the wings droop marginally. A breath hitched unknowingly in Willow's chest eases from her nose with relief. The pegasus seemed to release the tension, but there was not complete kindness in the corners of her eyes or the tones of her voice when she spoke. Something akin to suspicion kept those feathers flexed to fly.
They seemed to equally fear each other.
Willow eases onto her haunches, but does not cock a hip. The air is still thick between them and she cannot risk such foolish assumptions as safety.
"It is," Willow murmurs conversationally.
"Many seem to fear this place. Its name is certainly dour," Willow's lips nearly pout at this. The place is a lovely wood, even if it has some choice eyes and sounds in the dark of the night.
Her eyes catch the mare investigating her. It is perhaps an odd sensation to some, but she has long since grown accustomed to the glances and the weight they provide.
"I am Willow, and that was Ermine you met earlier." She leaves the name for the other to give willingly or not, but pauses in accord all the same.
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