Labor is painful and messy and loud - and afterward, while she coaxes the foal into nursing, she's very distracted. Not that that's an excuse - she should have been on alert. If there wasn't a foal, she would have been paying much closer attention. She was raised better than this. But she didn't notice the lion's approach, and instinct is forced to take over as the cat flings itself out of the undergrowth. The grulla mare jumps forward between the cat and the filly, swinging her hindquarters towards the lioness and kicking out with a squeal.
Whether hooves meet flesh or not, Sloene spins around in front of the girl, wide silver eyes staring down at the tawny creature. In this breath, she has time to think; and lions are not native to this or any part of new Beqanna; this one might be a threat in this moment but somewhere inside, there is a horse. Maybe even someone she knows. It has been hard learning to master her own power - perhaps this stranger isn't in control of herself.
It takes a couple of harsh breaths, a moment of staring at each other, for Sloene to slide into the right frame of mind. The space between normal and magic, where her voice turns honeysuckle sweet and people start to do what she says. It's not foolproof, hypnotism, but it certainly has its advantages. "You don't want to do this," she says, putting as much power behind the command as she can muster. "You're not a hungry lion. You're a horse." Firm, even in her sweet voice, because she doesn't want to kill someone if she can help it, but something fierce inside says she might if this stranger takes another swipe at her foal.