Applejack hadn't quite registered in Presea's mind and she was surprised as the pony called out. She'd assumed the pony was asleep, or perhaps not a talking animal. Then again, she'd never seen a horse that color. She had to be special.

Presea shifted the weight of her weaponry from one shoulder to the other and smiled, pausing in her walk. There was no rush. She could say hello.

"It's not as bad as it looks," she said carelessly. A blacksmith had to be used to carrying around heavy metal, actually. "Although I'm a little sad to miss my afternoon nap."