At the word poacher Salvia’s spine prickled. It boiled her blood to imagine some mongrel thieving off with one of their horses (never knowing, of course, her own father was a horsetheif) and she sorely hoped that whichever coyote had caught the beast had taught him a permanent lesson. This hardly showed on her face though, which remained carefully controlled. Her eyes, even, failed to betray her—though perhaps there was the reflection of fire in their ice, if one looked closely.
Before she had a change to brood too heavily on this idea the taller woman went on speaking. It took Salvia a moment to realize what was being mentioned; that trip had been a private one, as far as she was concerned. “I believe so; Sirius and he went together once. He had some dealings with my Boss,” she allowed to slip, and shrugged in a non-committal way. “I certainly have no issue with you joining us.”
The blonde woman nodded in agreement, her eyes bright and excited at talk of something she knew inside and out. “I saw them the last time I was there; maybe we can see about working something out with them. Between our horses and the wild ones, I’m sure we could find something to suit all our needs.”