"This is where we first met. Do you remember?"

"Of course."

Her voice draws his attention away from the others coming, a smile crossing his face; nodding, slowly, he repaints the memory in his mind, bringing to life a time long ago, when both he and Ranjiri had been very, very young. As he grins at his beloved, he can see the very clearing into which he’d burst upon the gold-dipped mare and a friend of hers, exchanging gifts, an overly eager soldier, and even more eager to defend his new home. While Dragomir feels embarrassed, still, when he looks back on the moment, but there is also wonderful warmth to the memory – mostly because Ranjiri had instantaneously forgiven him for his rudeness, allowing their friendship to grow from then on.

Too soon, however, the others are there, and the conversations begin; his dearest’s obvious perturbation with the stern warrior mare makes him smile subtly, the stallion finding it very endearing to see her protective nature so quickly inspired. He is also glad, however, to see a humorously familiar face arrive to their rescue.

Though she doesn’t seem to remember him, he remembers her; actually, she had been the friend whom he’d so rudely shouted at that long ago day, so he couldn’t quite blame her for not recalling who he was. He didn’t make it a point to remember people he didn’t particularly like, either.

When she simply barges in and steals away with Ranjiri, however, Dragomir is suddenly reminded why he hadn’t been overly fond of her, either. Quite the gentleman, he is instantaneously thrown off guard by her language, let alone her immediate claim over what he considered to be his woman. His expression becomes worried, perplexed, and surprised all in one swift moment, and when he looks back to the other mares who had arrived to greet them, he has a hard time hiding his reaction at all.

"Thank you. I’m sure we’ll run into one another again soon," hurriedly finishes the stallion, occasionally flickering his crystal eyes in the direction of his departing darling, nervously. Nodding to them each, especially the more friendly mares of the gathering, he plods along after Ranjiri and Roskuld at a trot to catch up, all while keeping an eye out for Letha (how hard would it be to find a lost deaf girl in a misty wood? Maybe he should have thought of that before now…), not entirely sure why he’s been so flummoxed by the entire situation at all.

Regardless, as the mists wreath around his ankles, and the familiar smell of the Moon’s wood fills his nostrils, he can’t help but feel a wave of pleasant happiness well within him, despite the awkward hurry of the moment.