Yesugei woke to the sound of hooves across ground, the rumble echoing beneath the space where his head lay. It was a sound that could wake even a dead man out of a stupor, leaving him quaking beneath the waves of nature as it tosses manes and scatters rocks beneath hooves. The heaviness of his head lingered as it was raised, a cloudiness clutching the threads between his eyes as they drew in what was before him.

Brightness urged his eyes to half-mass, and it was with a heavy, tight breath that he took in the unfamiliarity. The loss. The lack of home and the remnants of what once was that clung like soot to his mind. Something stirred behind him, the sound like paws scuffing against dirt—or something harder. There was patience in his movements as he peered over his shoulder, mouth dry and tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

And staring back at him was a snout larger than his, with a head and a body to rival. Long hair trickled down an auburn neck, and a snort, curious or threatened, was huffed at him with enough force and enough snot to urge his eyes closed.

He sat unmoving, a hard eye opening long enough to discern that it wouldn't be drenched before he settled back and opened the other. A dry nose twitched in time with the stallion's and Yesugei's lips parted into a strained grin. How utterly curious.

She finds relief in the herd coming to know where ger (home) is to ensconce itself in this new world. Their uncertainty oft disturbed her more than the worming doubt that keeps her head on a swivel. Still, horses do as horses must.

Oyun trails behind the herd, their venture toward the river splits her patrol into one of investigation as an alerting snort from her horse. He throws his head west of their path, huffing out agitation that tempers her approach. "Dulguun, that is no elaboration," she chides, heeding him nevertheless. He, however, dismisses this, leaving her to do the work of clarification.

As the others continue on, she breaks off, finding herself in the company of one of the stallions and...

...she slows, not immediately recognizing him. This, of course, makes him a stranger and what is a stranger if not a threat?

"You have met the welcome party it seems," Oyun nears the man with tail stiffly swaying, watching. "He didn't make a mess of you... So I'll trust his judgment for the moment." She stops. "Who are you?"