Pale isabelo dove dances into thy loam o' the herdless. Aye, a home had been offer'd an' yet she need'd time t' diside. Nearly silv'r locks flutter in the soft breeze as she stands hidden deep within the folds o' the shadowy candle barks. Boa is arch'd t' gaze out o'er the loam in silence. Occuli are set firmly 'pon the humans that had just enter'd. Like a whisp o' smoke she weaves 'moungst the umbra until she was upwind fr'm them. The scent o' men drifts into darken'd nares o' pale she. She stands tence, hopin' that the tame equines had not realis'd her presence.