I become aware of another presence, and lift my head to see who it is. It's a mare, unicorn, grazing delicately nearby. She is a pretty thing, if a little on the skinny side. Perhaps she, like myself, has suffered from a long, harsh winter. I stop my herb-tucking momentarily to offer her a warm smile, my gentle brown eyes fixing on her as I dip my head in a friendly nod. I make it a mission of mine to meet more herdmates, because if I'm going to survive in a herd with these wild horses, I need to learn to interact with them and their queer ways. My body language is none-confrontational, with my ears rammed forwards and my head held at a level that doesn't appear dominant. "Hello there," I say, making sure my voice is cheery. "I'm Badger, a healer here. What's your name?"

My attention is then grabbed by the approach of another mare, this one black like myself save for the tip of her mane and tail, and the cobwebs across her back. Her markings are curious, and I find myself scrutinising them closely. Some bizarre antelope-like creature comes towards me and sniffs every plant I pluck herbs from. Because I'm polite, I don't aim a kick at it - chances are, it is bonded to the cobweb-mare, and she is probably a herdmate. Besides, it's not really doing any harm as long as it only sniffs plants I've already reaped herbs from. If it tries to nibble on a plant I'm headed towards, I may just have to dirty look it or beefy-chest it out of the way.

I notice that the black mare moves closer to the pale one rather than me, and I wonder if they are friends or if the black is simply mistrusting of men. After all, without looking between my legs, it is hard for most people to know I am not a stallion, even if my lack of muscle and arrogant testosterone-fuelled swagger can be enough to give it away to certain sharp individuals. I have only limited experience around stallions - and mostly I find them to be asshats who could do with the same snippity-snip treatment I received - and truly marvel at the way some of them treat mares. Heavens, if there's one good thing about my 'condition' (which is how I choose to refer to it), it is that I can speak to a woman as a friend, not as somebody to impregnate. On the down side, it leaves me stuck between two groups, fitting into neither - mares don't properly see me as 'one of the girls', and stallions mock or bully me, leaving me only other geldings for company. So far, Helovia is sans geldings, probably due to the absence of scissor-happy humans.

But perhaps I'm reading too far into it, and the black woman is simply more friendly towards her own gender. Still, I smile at her. "More pleasant than winter, certainly. Might I ask your name, miss?" Again, my voice is neutral and calm, my head tilted slightly with polite curiosity.