She shook like a dying leaf in autumn's breeze. He could only imagine what was racing through her head and what emotions pulled at her heart like the tide on a beach. Would she flee? Certainly he acted mad, he could not blame her should she try to escape him, though it would wound him. He would love her, as much as he loved any of his kind. He would tuck her close to his chest and he would storm the world for her rights and her luxuries.

It was with such earnest that he cared that the feeling brought him more pain than any wound he'd sustained on the battlefield. It pounded like thousands of hooves running over his mind, setting him to pace in the hours of the night when he should rest. How could he rest when equines such as she wandered alone and in such a state?

He grit his teeth, fighting against the anger that threatened to resurface. Thankfully she stayed, and she spoke, and with it her voice and her presence stilled whatever actions raged inside him. "I want you try because you will it," he whispered to her, but it was mostly a stray thought than a useful segment of conversation. Perhaps she wouldn't even have heard it.

Despite his want she was strengthening before his very eyes. There was hope to be had in her yet, this poor girl that would have walked off a cliff if given half a mind. All she needed was someone to nip at her haunches and turn her away! Such a needless waste it would have been...

Her brightening features gave Ricochet a kinder warmth than his previous furious flame. It lent him a lopsided smile as he felt he could breath a sigh of relief when it was pride that rounded her cheeks and pinched at her eyes. He could rest easy knowing she was saved, for now. Could he bring her back to what she once was, what her vigor promised she could be? A champion she said, he curiously wondered of what.

A light laugh, one that showed his boyish youth and playful energy, shuddered from his nose when she queried of him. "Something like that..." Ricochet mumbled, eyes sparkling with a secret. "I am Ricochet the Incendiary, of the Foothills herd. I have visions of a different life, a different herd, a different...empire, but circumstances grant me little control." Ricochet admitted with an aggravated sigh. He shook his head, his mane sitting against his nape in a wearily disheveled manner that matched his stray thoughts. He glanced up at her after staring morosely at the ground for a moment. His gaze had hardened again, full of that previous ferocity when he'd first met her - was it only moments ago? It felt more like a life time. "For now."

That seemed to end the topic of conversation as Ricochet turned his body, edging closer to her to offer her warmth as the winter winds picked up. "In the mean time, the Foothills is a fine place to scrape out an existence. The ground is easier than the other two herds, full of more sweet grasses and clear springs than any of the wilds here. There is safety there, and as for company... I'm there." He grinned, a bit cocky with the tilt of his head and the arrogant hum to his tones.