- He must be filthy rich. Did you see? He didn’t just take us, he bought the other mares too and had them led off somewhere else. I’m not even sure he’s a gentleman. For all I know, he could be some outlaw with stolen gold, buying up pretty stable girls like candy.

…Hey, what’s that dark mark on your breast?

- Oh, this? Nothing glamorous. One of the trainers slapped an oil-stained whip across me during handling, and it left that print. Looks like a palm, I know. It’ll fade.

…Wait - what on earth is that man shouting? I don’t understand the accent here. I wasn’t stabled in ShackleFord originally. But you were, I can see the ranch brand on your breast. So tell me, what is he yelling?

- He’s saying he likes me. More than the other breeding mares, actually. …Great. Just perfect. We’ve been bought by a loud, overexcited idiot.