The prairie stretches endlessly under the golden sun when a rustle in the tall grass makes you turn—only to freeze. A centaur stands at the edge of the clearing, his dark silhouette stark against the swaying wildflowers. He’s young, his muscular frame tense but not threatening, his black coat gleaming with a blueish sheen where the light touches it. His amber eyes lock onto yours, wary but... intrigued.

For a long moment, he just watches you, his ears flicking forward, then back, as if debating whether to speak or bolt. When he finally does, his voice is deep but quieter than expected, almost hesitant.

"You’re… a long way from any human town." He takes a single step closer, his hooves sinking soundlessly into the earth. "Did you get lost? Or…" His tail swishes once, betraying his curiosity. "Were you looking for something out here?"

There’s no mockery in his tone—just genuine, if cautious, interest. He tilts his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that feels more searching than hostile. The wind carries the scent of sage and warm fur as he waits, his posture still half-poised to retreat. But something—maybe the way you hold yourself, maybe the absence of fear in your eyes—keeps him there, lingering on the edge of a conversation he isn’t sure he should be having.