The heat of this place went from welcome and warm to draining and hellish quite fast. Wind could not reach into the thick woven braches of the trees, and their green canopies full of summer leaves clung to the moisture and humidity in the air, making it miserable to stand still for too long. Rose panted with exertion. The action was unfamiliar to her; she almost never got this completely winded. This was only natural due the lovely athletic combination of thoroughbred from her father and quarter horse from her mother that made up Rose. Perhaps if I was part Arabian I could deal with this ungodly heat better, Rose quipped to herself. Laughing quietly, she continued down the trail she’d been following for the past few days. Dust swirled into the air with each step of her hoof, proof of the lack of rain the area had received recently. A sudden noise caused the white mare to pause and be still. Her ears twitched toward the source of the noise—the branches of the trees toward her left flank. It was a strange sing songy sound, almost like a bird… but not quite the same. The trills were shriller, less lyrical, almost sounding as if metallic surfaces rubbed against one another. Rose let out a confused snort and continued walking though her pace was slightly faster than it had been before, her ears now trained to the disruption of the forest quiet and eyes squinted in distrust. Her sooty gray nostrils flared, trying to pick up the scent of what she was now sure to be her stalker or future murderer. However, the trills were fading in the distance behind her—either she was putting more distance between them by walking away or they were going in the other direction that she was travelling in. Either is fine by me, Rose thought, satisfied that she would not die or be sacrificed in some satanic ritual tonight. Maman did always warn me about the dark rituals that strangers might practice… Rose giggled again. It seemed that she was in quite a giggly mood today, not that it was a bad thing. Indeed, it seemed her only source of entertainment in this forest was herself. She had not happened upon another equine since she’d left her little herd on the plains. Perhaps she wasn’t looking hard enough? Rose resolved to be more attentive to her surroundings, lest she miss the next settlement altogether.

Some hours passed in relative silence, the only interruptions being the occasional tired twitter from the birds when she roamed too close to their nests. But soon enough Rose heard footfalls crashing in the thick grass to the side and then transfer over to the hard, compacted dirt of the trail. She’d already turned around to greet the stranger, though first her attention did not go to him, but to the creature living upon his strong back. Mon dieu! Qu’est-ce que c’est? What could that possibly be? It was brown and scaly, though small enough not to scare Rose. It was beautiful, in some odd, mysterious way. She wondered idly if that creature had been the source of the noises that had driven her further into the forest. Once her attention had been satisfied on the scaly beast, Rose could turn her light brown eyes toward the stranger that it perched on. He was a lovely color, a palomino paint with a matching creamy mane and tail. He bowed to her, low and polite. She bowed to him as well and nickered her approval of his manners. He seems like quite the gentleman, the pale minx assumed, perhaps he has a touch of français in him. All of her French notions were doused, however, when the stallion spoke. “g’day ma’am! Are you perchance lost? I would be terribly flattered if you let me help you”. His accent puzzled her; she’d never heard something quite like it before. It was almost English, in a way. A flash of brown near his temple distracted Rose from finishing her thoughts on that. It seemed his little companion was looking between his ears. Rose’s eyes sparked with amusement, and she answered the partially gold steed before her.

“Oui monsieur, I am lost for now, though I’m sure this trail eventually leads to somewhere, at which point I will not be lost any longer.”

Her words betrayed her French ancestry, the distinctive soft lilt lending airiness and aesthetics to her words. She continued on, answering the second part of his introduction.

“If you would like to aidez-moi, I’m all ears, monsieur.”

ooc: aw, thanks<3 (maman=mom, qu’est-ce que c’est=what is it, aidez-moi=help me)