Little Lev had yet to entirely recover from the evening's storm. Still shaken by the sounds of thunder and the haunting flashes of lightning, he was entirely haunted. The night had been foul enough, but with each stroke of lightning he had remembered the shadows, and how their bodies had enveloped him; he remember fighting just to see that sliver of light among shifting masses of wretched blackness, and he recalled with a terrifying clarity the bite of blades tearing his flesh to pieces.

And so he had wandered, away from home and back towards the threshold into this land through which he had entered. His pace had wavered and swayed with nature's whim. Each thunderbolt had sent him running, but when the sky grew lighter and the rain began to let up, his body's fluid motion shortened to tired, slow steps. Over time he had let the morning sun dry his white coat and allowed his muscles to relax, even as the cold wet of the Orangemoon rain stiffened them. Though mud had dirtied his hooves, he took every opportunity to wipe them clean against skinned trees or rocks that still shined silver with the wet of the rain. He appeared somewhat in control of himself—marginally composed. He was stronger now, but it was hard to define by how much.

Could he really say he had recovered if the memory of those battle haunted him still? He was scared to spend the night alone, it showed no particular strength of character or soul. Still, he was too kind to himself to let it bother him. He had his faults, so did everyone. As he approached the figure of the splendid andalusian before him, however, he wondered if his theory was being tested.

Because she was, really, gorgeous. He found it a relief to feel an urge for her, as he recalled how in his older days he would have taken up a coy conversation with any mare he'd crossed. Still, even a beauty such as herself could garner some dirt and scrapes from her travels, and even a mare as blessed as she could find something wrong with herself.

As Fence approached, emerging from the wood shadowed by morning light and appearing before (and to his surprise, slightly above) her, his curved ears caught private words. So she was a beast of burden, then—a victim of war. Like him. "If I might speak on your behalf, miss, war takes its toll on all of us. It is impossible to stay strong throughout it without cheating one's own heart," He let his body fall beneath the light, exposing wide scars that tore over his back, and agitating the one wrapped over his lips as he spoke. Perhaps he was intruding, but he was proud of how quickly he shed his old instincts and appeared before her as an understanding ally as opposed to a self-centered flirt. Perhaps there was nothing left of his old ways after all. "Having come here in a state much like your own, miss, I would like to help if I may. I am Lev Fence," he introduced himself, his blue eyes seeking out her own. Strange how much the pair seemed to have in common.

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