He still doesn't have mares.
It's frustrating to him, that, after such a long time of searching, he's still had so little success. Surely out of all of the mares he's talked to, at least one of the fools would want to come home with him. But so far? No such luck.
The pale stallion stalks into the field with a scowl on his fact, red eyes scanning through the gathered horses. It doesn't take long for him to spot a mare that is all alone and within seconds the scowl is gone, replaced by a polite, but interested smile.
He slinks up to the girl and stops what he believes is a respectful distance away. At this point in time he still wishes to retain the appearance of respectability. He knows well now that the field is not the place to display his true nature - it brings the foolish white knights out of the woodwork. "Well hello there. I'm Zayn. What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?"
ZAYN
I'm an ugly mess