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A snap of a twig pricks his ear. Head drops all weary signs. He stand taller, wings fluster, and harks lean forward as if to pull the on comer in. The sound maker reveals themselves. A palomino, glowing in the night even without direct moon light steps forth with a bold, but not threatening. The bay Pegasus holds his stance, exhaustion knocks on his door. Perhaps if she be here to fight he’d have strength enough to fly an hour more. That would allow his escape, but she still might follow with her own high flight. On outward she steps till she clear of the brush. Wait. What be this curiosity, the horse has not wings. A hark flicks back only to be met with a voice drawing it back.

Take note, she means no harm. Concern laces her voice, and sincerity her question. The bay was not well convinced, but he was called to remember she be a lady, and deserved his valor. The golden one may be some mutant with no wings, one which he had never seen before but this was not to stop him. And the best way to keep an enemy at distance is to continue pleasantries.

Black feathers fan out as wide as the clearing allowed and lower, as the bay dips his front half to greet the mare. He rises himself and with a kinder eye and stance answers her in a voice with a British tongue.
“Pray thee m’lady do Pardon me if I startled ye in thy midnight wanders.” The whole bay body picks up a stance of relaxed using it to smuggle the strained body and wandering mind.
“I thank ye for your concern but as your eye can view the landing did me no ill.” He allows his wings to open as if in proof and lets a small smile dance over his lips, but it is for pleasantry only.

Pulling his feathers back close he twitches his hind tassels. His mind, unlike his body has been awakened by this piney world and meal colored lady before him. What brought her to bare concern for him? Why had she not wings? Were they cut off in a most unspeakable ceremony or incantation? Worse yet, be she a mutant? And, look there! Below here and spot of white. A stir bellows in his chest which he keeps silent to avoid open thoughts. The creature was smaller than a foal, with white hair. It was like the wolves he knew well, but with black stripes and thicker. No, this could not be a wolf. He had just landed in this world and already thought too many questions even for his own mind. The horse banished them with speech. “I am Galen.” he spoke as he again tucked his head, careful to leave off the rest.
“May ye give me the pleasure to know thy maiden’s calling?”



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