A bark comes in response to the bellow. The noise is followed shortly by a small form of black and white border collie. Snow has speckled him on his backside and turned his muzzle pale. It makes him look aged despite his apparent youth.

A tail wavers curiously behind him, tall with happiness and a touch of authority. Yellow eyes peer up at the new stallion, one much taller than the mutt's master. There is an intelligence in that liquid amber gaze that seems to hold and then weight the individual horse in front of him. Make no mistake stranger, this is no simple cur.

The dog seems to find something worthy in you. He snorts before dashing away as suddenly as he'd come, splashing snow in his wake. He moves so quick the tree branches he dislodges barely have time to quiver before stilling from the fleeting touch.

Within moments the paws are cutting through winter's flesh again, but this time they are followed by hooves.

A dunskin stud presses into the scene, body generating steam and breaths falling like fog from his nose. A low bugle rumbles in his chest in wordless greeting as teal eyes settle comfortably on those of the grullo. It's a haughty gaze and there is arrogance in the stance of the boy's neck, but you need only to see his ruined face and know he has seen humility. In some ways it makes him all the prouder.

"Good boy, Guns," he murmurs softly to the dog that has since nestled into the snow by his hooves. Amber eyes poke through the tail wrapped tautly by his head, ears cocking to take in his master's voice before he settles his attention back on napping. Ricochet smiles a crooked thing before letting slip words for the stranger.

"You're in Helovia now stranger, welcome." Ricochet would love to express more on what a wonderful sight this stallion truly was in his eyes, the horned and winged far too abundant for his tastes, but he curbed his running mind and remembered to be subtle. He could not afford any misplaced steps or words, not when the crop to sow was limited and the ravens around ravenous. As thought to shield away the black birds Ricochet hunched his shoulders up, but it seemed a normal thing in this chill.

"You must be weary and in need of rest, traveler. I hope you'll find the time to linger here a while if you still intend to press onward, but there is not much south here aside cliffs and seas."

Guns takes off in a sudden flash, the movement so peculiar Ricochet yanks his head to the side with teeth bare and ears sinking. The expression quickly fades when he sees not an aggressor but a feeble mare trudging through the snow just beyond the trees. Teal eyes dart back at the stallion, a greater asset to Ricochet, but he would not turn away any equine. Guns was already at her side, concern lending his throat a soft and gentle whine. The impatience in the toss of her tail and the plume of her breath spoke otherwise of her health and weariness, settling the dog's anxieties so that he sat easily on his haunches at her side, amber gaze curious on her.

Muttering something under his breath Ricochet takes a few strides towards her, black tail twisting at his hocks. "What keeps you distant mare? There are no wolves here, just a dog. Follow him if your way is barred, he will lead you true," Ricochet called out to her, unnerved by her strange behavior. Her body seemed hale enough so Ricochet had taken the assumption of nerves making her cautious or ill, it was often the way with newcomers accustomed to all different manner of cultures.