"I will see."
He stops walking as he has left the snow behind him, trying to move even closer would be too dangerous with the lack of sight. His ears are tipped forwards in the direction of the burning tree as he takes notice of the lack of snow. It means that he is close to the fire – maybe even too close – but he only feels a comfortable warmth from the fire and not a burning sensation, so he concludes that he should be safe here. Even though the situation is still strange to him his body visibly relaxes, Brynmor enjoys the heath on his skin. It was something he had never felt before, nothing in his little ‘prison’ could provide him of warmth.
It’s her voice that betrays her. Instantly his eyes turn around and focus on the sound she makes. His sensitive hearing picks up the softest breaths and thus it isn’t hard for him to guess where she stands. Brynmor snorts softly, his head and empty gaze moving in her direction. Now his ears are turned back, not yet hostile, but neither does he want to look too friendly. She has demanded him for his name, without naming her own and as a stranger to etiquette he can’t help it but to blurt out a cold ”who’s asking?” The time the greying stallion had spent around others wasn’t worth counting, too soon after his birth he had been put away in a dark corner of the kingdom without anybody to interact with. Besides his mother – who he had only been around for approximately an hour – and Gryffen this was the first horse he met and actually spoke to, so who could be blaming him for his lack of mannerism?
"Through your secret."