For Sansa

 The days grew colder and they reminded Eowyn more and more of her own land as they shortened and darkened.  She was still alone in this place, even with the friends that she had, and she missed her people.  She missed the weather, the smell of fires to keep warm as the harvest was brought in, and the way the horses' fur grew more shaggy to keep them warm.   Bleod was, in Eowyn's mind, best seen with a full winter coat, even though it also meant much grooming in the spring as the mare lost the now-unneeded coat.  

Today she was grooming her mare in the shelter of the practice yards at the stables and speaking to her mare quietly in Rohirric.  One of the other horses had been nippy today, and Bleod's fur was ruffled in multiple ways.   Eowyn was wearing garments more suited to Rohan than to here, since it was cold, and knew that she was an interesting sight, with her horse and her attire and the way she spoke.  She did not care.  She was of the Mark, and so she would always be.

When another person came closer, she looked up and smiled at the young woman.

"Well-met, Lady."