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There were many things that this curious mare spoke of that Romani didn’t understand, but she did understand what Bluegrass meant when she said that she needed a home. Didn’t everyone need a home? While she had been skeptical at first, the Haflinger eventually agreed that a home was something precious, something not to be taken lightly or for granted. Azure eyes softened and she lifted her head slightly, but not too high to be called haughty. A welcoming smile crossed her muzzle. “Blue, if you’d like, you can come back with me to the Foothills? You may like it there, and I would be more than happy to lead you there, and get to know you more.”
Like she had thought earlier, despite the sudden changes of the herd, Romani wouldn’t abandon her home. It had become far too important for her to simply let go. Tossing her head, she snorted, taking in Blue’s earthy scent. It was somewhat comforting, the Haflinger surmised, the familiar smell of terrain and grass, mixed in with a smell that was completely Blue, and it helped ease the turmoil of emotion that had driven her madly into the Threshold in the first place.
Turning slightly, Romani motioned her head towards the way she had come. “Shall we? I think you’ll like it, Blue. It’s beautiful; when the skies are clear, they’re vibrant and fresh with crisp air, and the grasses that grow there are thick and plentiful. I’m not very skilled in types of plants, but the majority there is amazing.” Romani, of course not a Lignea, thought of plants only as vegetation to eat, to fill her body with nutrients, but she wouldn’t talk like that around Bluegrass. It seemed that the grassy mare held some sort of bond to the plants of the word that Romani just simply couldn’t fathom.
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