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He followed. In that, he was predictable stallion. Where the mare who had his attention went, he went too. "Why does that surprise you? I mean, I thought you thought I didn't like mares." A few more thoughts and he'd have been thoroughly lost.

"Seven." He whickered softly, impressed. "That is a lot. And foals for the foals too? No wonder you're out here alone. Three seems like nothing now. But what about you? No special stallion in a herd that size?"

"I like them," Diego protested once he'd untwisted himself. "I just don't always like my ears buzzing. Nothing against the mares at all. I like mares," he said again, though he had the vague impression he was digging himself deeper into trouble.

His ears pricked forward. "Done with stallions? But how will you find one you ...like if you're done with them?"

He fought the urge to back up. Or turn away. Or...run, for that matter.

"I. Of course there are," he answered, somewhat warily. "Stallions who like more than a pretty mare, I mean. Friends first," he offered, tail twitching. "And then friends might turn into good friends, and good friends turn into ...really good friends." He wasn't even going to go near suggesting that mares and stallions do what comes naturally. He was likely to get kicked or bitten.

Yep. Definitely still in landmine territory. Of all the places he could have picked to land to get a drink. Well, no, that wasn't fair. This conversation was interesting, if potentially dangerous. He tipped an ear forward and back while he thought and pointedly did not shift his weight or move a wing. He didn't want to look fidgety.

"If I found a mare I wanted to build a herd with, I'd want to be friends too." That made sense, right, and was careful enough not to get him kicked? "Friends and physical. Physical friends."

"Well, of course I'd tell a pretty mare she's pretty," he insisted, slightly offended. "It'd be rude not to say something." He honestly believed that and stating the obvious had ruffled his feathers. He smoothed and shifted them back into place. "But much as it sounds like it'd be nice to have more than one mate, I think that's just a story. I haven't met any mares who'd agree, at least.

"Not a hard heart," Diego answered. "Just ...lucky, I guess. You don't see it, so it's a story," he said again. "Probably just one stallions make up to make themselves feel better when a mare kicks them too hard."

He wasn't the brightest, but he wasn't entirely dense, either, so he added, "I'm sorry that a stallion did you wrong. If he made you a promise, he should have stood by it, no matter how many other mares he might have seen. Promises shouldn't get broken."

He laughed. "But if they're just stories, there's no reason to kick a stallion for real. Stories don't hurt." At least he hadn't heard one that did, yet. "Hooves do."

He was getting the impression, though, that he was going to talk himself into trouble no matter what he said, and he didn't want that. She was a nice enough mare. She really was pretty, but she had him in a corner and he didn't know how to get out. When she went quiet, he did too. He stretched a bit. He watched a grasshopper climb a long blade of grass.

And looked up at her when she started talking again. "Sorry I haven't made you feel better," he offered in return.

He was taking a risk, he knew, wandering closer to a mare in a less than cheerful mood, but he did it anyway. Drifted over and, very lightly, bumped his shoulder against hers. "Hope you work through it soon. And if you need to...talk. I'll listen."

He knew it was ironic, given his thing about the mares in his little herd talking too much, but none of them were talking about problems. They were just making noise.