Though the heat of the Jungle was best described as unpleasant to one whose winter coat had come in full, she found herself lingering. The vivid foliage, and exotic inhabitants an alluring amusement. Rapscallion had already headed off, intent on making the passage to the Dale. Why he was in such a hurry she couldn’t be sure, perhaps it was the temperature, his coat was just as thick. Maybe it was the company. Wichita found it pleasant, and welcome. Then again, to a male in the matriarchal society, one might feel unwelcome or out of sorts. If that was the case, she was surprised, he didn’t strike her as one to concern themselves with the opinions of others. No, that theory was at the very bottom of her list. She wasn’t even sure why she had fretted about it, though it may be because their time together hadn’t been all that bad. It was rather uneventful to be true as he had been left to his own devices.
She herself had a good excuse for her dawdling, foals couldn’t be rushed. Though the tot had been born early, just skirting the end of winter. Wichita had taken her time to rest and recover, to allow her young filly to gain some functioning use of her limbs. This child had been born in the dead of night, the navy sky dotted with sparkling spheres. Her coat had shone silver, a blanket of stark dotted white adorned her rump and hips, and a bold star sat distinct on her forehead. Wichita had decided to call her Bly, and the two had journeyed slowly to the settled valleys of the Dale. Though the child was not in her opinion well suited for the chill, she didn’t seem overly bothered by it. Besides, spring would be upon them shortly, stray viridian blades of grass showing through the hard ground.
Rapscallion was already there, standing stagnant in front of two other equine, she paced slowly into their midst, finding a spot opposite of the strangers. Greeting with a soft whicker, the silver dapple made her approach known, though she had been preceded by two resident Daleans. One was a steely gray male, who had followed the approach of a lovely bay. Her breast marked by a sphere of white, though it did not diminish her beauty. One was obviously older, more mature than the other, though the youngest held himself with a proper air. Something commanding and refined in his stature, though Wichita decided not to comment on this. ”Sorry I am late, had a lil’ bit of a setback on my departure,” gesturing with her dial to the newborn filly clinging to her side. The child’s aqua gaze curious but guarded. ”Sorry to interrupt. It’s nice to meet ya’ll I’m Wichita, and this Bly.”
