Only a few minutes pass before the crunch of winter steps halts Björn. His façade is steely and indifferent when he turns his body to face the stranger. Adorned by shadow, silky black. He takes note of the horns that curl behind the head, and the glowing jewel clasped upon its hard exterior. The pools of his eyes take in the scars that litter the stranger’s body, yet the stallion did not appear gaunt or maimed from recent combat. The copper vagabond stood on guard nonetheless. These were foreign lands, with foreign cultures; the plethora of unknowns took on a multitude of possibilities.

An unfamiliar tone finally breaches between them, despite the familiar words that coalesce ahead. Senses are heightened; his steady eyes churn within as information is given. So far there is no need for his precaution; yet, Björn resists the idea of safety, or the false pretenses of a friendly greeting.

He gives a stiff dip of his head. A deep and strangely fluid voice begins, “We are simply travelers. Looking for refuge… Greetings Mortuus Nox.” By habit he forgets to name himself, while attempting to copy the name with his tongue – failing, here and there –. The trees cast long shadows along the earth, making it hard to read the stallion ahead of him. There isn’t anything he can pick out, besides the stark signs of a possible warrior – or a stallion that fought for other circumstances.

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Machiko however, finds the cold exterior of the stranger curious. She finds it intreaguing, having witnessed travelers or strangers as they passed paths, to simply ignore or exchange glances in brief connection. Here was one who had offered more than his impenetrable exterior, and immediately wondered why. The young mare shifts impatiently beside Björn, and inches a tad closer to their fellow unicorn.

Mortuus – the name is wonderfully odd and strange. His ruckuous laugh cracks a grin upon her otherwise silent features. Giggling with him – more out of relief. “I’m sorry to hear that. Unless you don’t have a preference for either language?” She tilts her head, her voice much lighter than her companion’s, slightly accented with the rolls and fluidity of her homeland. She dips her head as she gathers herself, her old life crawling back to ‘play the game’, as mother had once put it. Not that her appearances or reputation mattered much here – possibly nothing, mostly likely… “Mortuus it is.”

“You may call me Machiko, and this is my uncle Björn. We have no knowledge of the lands we enter now. It would help us greatly to know more of it, if you could spare the time to dabble with foreigners.” She paused briefly, having taken the risk of omitting their true names. Before Björn could step in, she picked up her train of thought with a bit of energy. “You mentioned lands? And the Aurora Basin, that is one of them… how many are there? And suppose you could give an account of what these lands are like. Are you at war?”

She’d realized the subtle marks along his hide. But there was much she needed to know, and knowledge was priceless wasn’t it? He’d said he’d help, anyhow… An ear shifts to Björn as a rumble escapes him. The mare can feel his gaze radiate out with an air of ire. “Excuse my niece. It has been some time since our last encounter.”

The sound of his tail swishes behind them. His large, heavy feet shift – glancing behind Mortuus for only a few seconds. He is aware of the environment, taking note of all sides for the sake of being vigilant.