The dragonmare was used to the stares, the looks, the surprise - often the fear - at her appearance. She knew that the flesh of dragon and equine only rarely melded together, and even more rarely succeeded in sustaining life - Amaris was a diacritic individual, an uncommon, rare blend of genes that had resulted in the splash of golden scales across a luminescent, silken champagne hide. She was not foolish enough by now, to recognise even herself as a bit unusual, out of the ordinary, peculiar - but she was weary of the same reactions to her presence.

They would look, they would stare. They would see the predator she definitely was - fortunately, she needn't feast upon meat very often, and so it was particularly uncommon for her to be caught out in that sort of light. They would see her scales, and some would conclude that she was queenly - usually those bonded to dragons accepted her more readily - revered her almost. But those without such backgrounds, those who saw her simply as she was - an equine with the wings, scales and appetite of a dragon - had a very limited range of reactions: stay, and ask questions, or run, and avoid her.

Amaris wasn't the only unique thing in the realm, however. As this other mare stopped to stare at her, golden pools roamed over her physique, looking at the way magic thrived throughout her - flowers grew so naturally down her mane and tail, their trail a fragrant celebration of her existence behind her. Though her expression was friendly to begin with, as the mare accepted her offer of help, it softened further with pleasure, excitement. Perhaps it was a sad fact that Amaris should feel such joy at being accepted by any stranger she happened by, but such was the truth of all the interactions of her past - not all had such positive outcomes.

"I am Amaris," she proffered when Agondice gave her own name, stepping forward to the willow tree curiously. Most everyhorse knew of the properties of the willow bark - like most poisons, it was only deadly at the right dose, otherwise it could be therapeutic. Amaris was taken on a journey through her memories as she recalled Smoke, forever gathering herbs, forever stockpiling, always ready to treat any ailment that came her way with a remedy of magic or plants (or both). They were nice, happy memories, and it only warmed Amaris further to think of them as she went about her own way of gathering the bark.

"Your flowers are beautiful," she said idly, as she looked at the great broad trunk, walking to the other side of it to tend to an area Agondice was yet to reach. "Do they grow through all seasons?" she asked with genuine curiosity, even as turned her body to allow the scythe of her tail to swing more freely and strike high at the tree, and carve sheets of bark off it. It was so simple, so natural for her, she didn't even consider how she might appear to others - how naturally deadly, predatory, her actions were.

Amaris