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Under the mask of her long, silken mane, the femella continues to watch the other two horses with cautioned interest. Her wave of emotion and remembrance of the past has washed over her, and left as quickly as it had come. With a sharp, piercing look she scrutinizes the brute, then the bronze mare. She breaks into motion, not fast, quickly, or insanely, but a leisurely walk. No matter how nonchalantly she moves, however, her mind is racing and her thoughts tumbling about in her refined visage, and the cords of her muscles ripple with restrained and imperceptible caution.
The one dubbed 'Unholy' had spoken to them both, warning them both. From the stallion, she found a hard, sarcastic, and revealing response. However, this femina decides to show no reaction to the other's words, not heeding them insomuch as to be actuated into leaving the vicinity. She, too, lingers, pondering mostly over the vermilion brute. He had spoken about injury, but most of all injury to the heart, and how it is much more distressing, uncomfortable, and unendurable than injury in the physical. He spoke thus, and perhaps he speaks with such assurity because of some thing that had happened in the past...?
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