The shaman notices the strange look upon the grey's face as she embraces her, and yet shows no apparent sign of having seen anything unusual. Even as her feather limb had brushed upon the empty side, where a wing should have been placed, she makes no mention of it. Her face remains calm, warm, and soothing in the dull light which flickered from the pyre in the distance, a symbol of their herd's life which thrived still.

It can hardly be said that Onni does not care for the hurt that is obvious in every movement of her new counterpart. She is a healer and, before that, an openhearted warrior with a kind soul. The beating in her chest aches in the pain that she feels radiating from her company, but the tobiano tries her best to keep her own thoughts to herself. Her posture is calm. Her face is lighted, happy. Her words are normal and not gilded with overly nice tones. Peaceful, like a spring breeze. Having suffered the loss of the stallion she considered her father, the loss of two of her homes, she knew that some aches could not be healed when they are placed under a microscope. When she had been suffering from heartache, all she had wanted was normalcy and gentle company, yet that was harder to come by than one would think.

The shaman hoped that by offering her patient friendship, this girl would open up to her on her own account, without coaxing on Onni's part. Sensing his bonded's need for steady, calm reactions, Lyhty is relatively quiet, tucking himself behind a chocolate wing and twiddling with her mane.

With whatever pain rests in her chest, the grey seems more or less engaged in their interaction, nodding almost simultaneously with the healer, making her smile widen for a brief moment. Forgetting momentarily that this girl had been scarred on her heart, Onni was simply enjoying new company. Looking over as the grey introduces herself, the shaman offers a smile in return for the short, tight version of the other. "Africa," she repeats for memory, liking the sound of the name. "Nice to meet you."

She looks away out at the darkened, night painted desert as Africa speaks to her again. Onni's mind expects her voice to continue, as it fades toward the end, but when silence pools for a moment, the tobiano looks back toward her. "Normally, it is warmer during the winter here," she begins, her voice even and calm, still open and honest as always. "Without the sun to warm the sands, the chill has really set in. On a normal winter day, the sun warms the wind, glints off the sand like red snow. The sky is usually brilliantly clear and blue for as far as you can see." Looking down toward her hooves, the shaman sighs, caught up in the reverie of her homeland.

"I miss the Sun. This land is not half as magical without his warmth."