Watch that man rattle his bones

He had seen the red-ed mare out of the corner of his slit-pupiled eye, moving and searching and looking. It wasn't there home, what was she doing? Though, perhaps, it was hers and he just didn't know. He didn't know many things, but it also almost felt... right, to look around. Especially with the well-fed fungi. And the doe that was in front of him didn't seem to mind, and the feelings emanating from her instead read, "this is good, this is right." She drew closer to him, and Nigel vaguely heard the words of the mare - of Astrid. He was grateful for not being especially tall as the old woman made it obvious that she wished for them to be even closer than face to face. Her forehead rested on his own, pressing together until he can't tell if the thorns are real or merely markings. Nigel felt the smile in her voice as she spoke, the vibration pulsing through and warming his desert-loving blood. "Don't let them take what is yours." And then she was... gone. Morgause was gone.

Take what is his? Nigel didn't have anything, not really. He lived where he could, hiding in the desert. Hares followed him around, keeping him company, but he'd never say they were his - if anything, he was there's. He honestly had no idea what else she could be meaning... and he would likely overthink it a different day! For now, he determined he should probably actually talk to the mare - Astrid - who had helped prevent him from being eaten. "You mentioned your name is Astrid?" he asked, voice still a little shaky. "It's a lovely name, and a pleasure to meet you. I'm Nigel. Red looks beautiful on you."