The fact of the matter remains that Anna wouldn't spend time in Mafaton if she didn't have to, if it weren't utterly, shamefully necessary as the only source of Vitae that could be called anything like satisfying. Baedal's knowledge of its "cruorvore" population took away so many options; vampire "groupies" (wasn't that the slang what they were called?) were repetitive, easy -- nothing like the thrill of anything she could have justifiably called hunting. It could be worse, she reminds herself bitterly. The other option for a society without a full Masquerade was of course that she be hunted herself, and killed. The city had already come frighteningly close to that happening.

It is easier to hear the Huntress's opinions with the Beast full and content. Once the skeletal horse would have been an object of horror and distaste, but her mind has shifted some since then and now, when she notices it, she is intensely curious. Well an approach won't hurt -- not her, at least.

"Your mount is a wondrous creature." She doesn't notice anything of note about the man holding the bridle. Indeed, he strikes her as disappointingly dull-looking.