She was an infuriating creature in every sense of the word. One who possessed all the stubbornness in her opinion as....he did himself. Frost, perhaps, not so far inclined to the sanctity of his own thoughts not to consider that very realization- even if he refused to show it. The striking mare's efforts to force him to move within his paddock were as equally irritating as her haughtiness and yet, in this at least, the draft stallion was inclined to yield as he fell into step beside her. Both horses moved in near perfect time with little save that fence between them as they did. It was worth that small yield, perhaps, to draw closer to her. Frost's nose twitched slightly, the stallion content to inhale her scent all the more readily if only to commit it to memory. Alexander hardly believed she existed and yet Frost was nothing if not determined to prove his rider wrong. One day. The stallion was hardly foolish enough to believe the unicorn might simply be persuaded into allowing the Hunter to catch sight of her. Not when she had gone to such lengths to conceal herself those past few days. The very fact she had chosen to appear when every single being within that camp was occupied with far too much alcohol was, in turn, equally telling. Frost, for now, inclined to keep those very thoughts to himself as the mare insisted he thought too highly of himself. Her words prompted a soft snort from the heavy draft.

"To be fair, all of Mongolia thinks too highly of me tonight. Perhaps I am inclined to agree with them."

How readily those smooth, cool words were pressed with a hint of amusement to her mind. Frost seemed to find some satisfaction in the sarcasm of his lyrics as he moved, his violet gaze eyeing the far end of his paddock as he did. Hmmm. He would have precious little time to say what he desired. Frost anticipated entirely that the unicorn mare would continue to walk long after the fence prevented himself going any further. To be...irritatingly alluring, after all, seemed to be her veritable talent. His next words were chosen with far more care than he dared suggest. The equine was suddenly content to offer far more words then he often cared to The stallion musing over the very notion that Alexander had found her hoof prints that night. Frost was inclined to leave out that part of the tale where his rider had berated him for attempting to 'chase after mares' in the middle of the night. As if he were some common colt. It was, however, so hardly Alexander's discovery of those hoof prints which Frost chose to speak of, the equine instead continuing with that almost curious notion that Alexander had failed to believe she existed at all. In fact, he had gone so far to insist Frost himself had become delusional. The mare's own head rose, her delicate, feminine words finding his mind once more as she attempted to comment upon what Frost was certain was some failing upon the part of all men before his own muzzle abruptly extended- pressing to the soft, warmth of her neck and the velvet white fur that adorned it. She felt...incredible.

That singular touch, however, was enough to prompt the mare to wheel backwards- Frost equally swift in withdrawing his muzzle lest she attempt to nip at him, her forehoof striking angrily at the earth. Frost's own feathered hooves came to a ready stop and yet- for all her irritation, the draft was inclined to simply...watch her. That unflinching calm hardly shifted from his figure as her near seething words bit at his mind with vehemence. How dare he? Did she really think herself so above him as to be offended by touch? Would her reaction have been any different were he to show her the wings she longed to see? His words, at last, seemed to prompt some sort of reaction from her, his ears pricking forward in response as she insisted she watched that race every year. That she had not followed him as he was inclined to believe and that last year's winner so apparently had more manners than himself. Another soft snort erupted from within his nose once more. The end of that fence line halting any further efforts he might have made to continue walking. The mare was content to stand almost tauntingly out of reach.

"And here I thought the prize was money and a saddle for the rider-it seems I was wrong. It appears the prize is a conversation with a haughty mare. Tell me, did last year's winner have more manners because they were polite or because they were too meek to actually talk to you? Perhaps a stallion is too much for you to handle, hmm? Perhaps you prefer geldings?"

One eye rose upward. Frost was entirely content to goad the mare. The equine oblivious to perhaps how much she had...gotten to him in turn as his tail flicked. She was as irritating as she was...undeniably attractive in every way. What would he prefer for his prize? Frost's ears flickered momentarily backwards, those words caught within upon his tongue before the mare insisted he was so apparently just like the other unicorns.

"The others? There are more of you?"

A near genuine curiosity seemed to find his features then. Frost momentarily forgot his own frustration with the creature before him before he seemed to reconsider her earlier question. His hoofs shifted forward, his chest pressing agianst the top rail of that paddock. It was....decidedly high. It was possible, perhaps, to make that jump and yet there was every chance he would take half that paddock down with him if his hooves clipped it. His wings were far too unreliable to be considered a valid option. Alexander would be....displeased if he was forced to repair an entire paddock. How he would have liked to have met her with no fence or rope to prevent him. Still- that singular question remained. What did he want as his prize? How certain he was she hardly meant to give him anything and yet Frost saw little need not to take up that offer all the same.

"I told you my name- I think it's only fair you give me yours. As a prize. Since it seems you are content with running away again."