As the cough slowly faded and air once more was permitted into her lungs, the girl was able to hear the reply that immediately was offered to her. A look of disbelief passed over the delicate face, scarred and with the left eye blinded and dead. "There are herds living here?" she exclaimed, the tone clearly stating that she never would have thought that the land was actually inhabited. Sure it would be suitable, but there were no signs of anyone around. "I'm sorry" she quickly added, realizing how condescending she must have sounded. "It's just.. I haven't seen many people at all since I came, and it's been a long time and there are no buildings. Not even a way-station, or roads..." Rilo looked between the strangers with confusion apparent on the delicate visage, uncertain about whether the culture of this land was similar to her own. She wanted to think it natural, but it would probably prove naive - she just had to think back to her homeland to realize that not everyone were the same.

She flinched a bit as the large painted lady walked over and touched the side against her own, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable being so close to a stranger. Then warmth began to seep in through her skin, through the all too short coat that never had been in need of thickening to get her through the seasons; with a sigh the short fawn relaxed a little, leaning into the foreigner.

"Thank you" she said quietly, sniffling pathetically as she looked between the others. "I'm not really hurt, not in a while." She looked back over her body, studying the marred frame with a practical gleam in the seeing eye that hinted she was used to seeing worse. Most of the scars were healed by now, long gashes that ate through the soft sand-colored coat and made it darker or lighter than intended, sometimes leaving hairless seams of knotted skin where healing had been particularly difficult. They were the remains of severe abuse, too plentiful for someone so young; enough to last a lifetime, to kill someone if delivered all in one go.

No, rather than hurt, she was just tired. Hungry and thin, with no sheen to the coat and no winter coat, unused to the phenomenon called winter and to sleep beneath the stars, where no fires warmed the body and shadows ate away at the sanity. As for the cold...
"I tried to cross the river" she admitted, attempting to smile but not quite managing it - her heart ached too much, the memory of the lost ones so very close still.

"You're really kind, aren't you? It feels like ages have passed since I spent time in the company of others." Her accent spoke of foreign lands far away, thick and at times difficult to understand; much like theirs was to her. The ears crowning the graceful poll was slowly rolling forward again, hesitantly as if she didn't quite trust that the welcoming attitude was going to last. Kindness had been so scarce that she almost forgot what it was like - the gentle warmth, the generosity... She had been like that, once. Before everything broke.