Perhaps Rowan wasn't the only one who found another's presence all she needed to lift her day, if the look on Tor's face explained anything. To have met another wanderer only further comforted her heart. Smiling shyly and dipping her head a little, eyes cast to the side as she spoke. "I'm afraid I wander too...I would not be shocked if I was unknown to my herdmates..." trailing off sadly as she admitted this, staring at caramel hooves before lifting her head once again to look at the draft mare. It would be rude of her to bring Tor, who only just now knew her name, into her troubles. Rowan couldn't help it, she was so lonely and had finally realized that that was her problem. Why hadn't she seen it sooner?

Just as Rowan had caught sight of the gold painted dame, so had Tor. Tor's eyes scanned over the girl who Rowan was surprised to find was her own age. Was she really so young? It felt as if she were years older than she apparently truly was. The painted woman moved over to the other youth, moving close and sharing warmth. Rowan struggled over this. She was so disassociated with touch that it shocked her on most days, and was rather flighty of it. It appeared that she had become rather shy of touch, and sent silent apologies with her eyes to the both of them.

Shocked reply burst out of the other young mare, and Rowan couldn't help but give a ghost of a smile. Her apologies were waved away by a flick of her tail, and amusement shone in Rowan's deep blue eyes. "It's quite alright. One can wander for weeks and still end up missing every other soul. You're not at fault." Hiding her puzzlement when she spoke of roads and way-stations. What in the world? Then again, horses had come from multiple crazy backgrounds that Rowan would never experience. Perhaps it was normal where she hailed from.

Sliding and fading into the background as she usually did, easily muting herself and observing as the unnamed youth conversed and shyly admitted to trying to cross a river. Rowan's eyes momentarily drifted as she remembered her own life threatening dip in the ocean. But she had done it voluntarily. Never had she considered herself a thrill seeker. She preferred to explain it as this- she had had enough of pleasant exchanges and curtsies, she wanted to bite back and challenge the world itself, not just other equines. So she frequently battled things only she could see, such as the waves of the ocean. Dancing upon death's doorstep and galloping away with a whinny and a shake of her mane. It was a thrill yes, but Rowan always felt that she wasn't under Feyther's eternal influence in those moments.

The fae seemed so hesitant about their kindness, as if expecting them to lunge at her and chase her away at a moments notice. Rowan sympathized with the poor girl. "I suppose we are. I certainly try. I don't see the point in being unkind if you have done nothing to antagonize me into it, yes?" The doe's accent was a little hard to understand, but it was a pleasant one that was rather endearing. She was so nervous, and Rowan honestly didn't know what to do with herself. Shuffling a little and fading back as if disappearing without moving, letting Tor take the stage.