She's caught up in her visit, but not so much she doesn't turn her head. An easy turn, even if there is something classical and careful to it. Even and gentle, but of a very true grace that is taught and a deep necessity to a life where you can't be caught or let surprise show long, if at all. But there is nothing of care or concealing in the smile that breaks out gentle and curling across her mouth when she spots the source of the whistle, rambling through the snow.

"She could fade away entirely," Marian replied, with some merriment.

Even if the subject was a little too close still. For long enough she'd lived with the idea Lineave, and all the other horses had likely burned with the house. Even if they were not in and of the same time or place anymore, it was nice to know she was here. In the hands of several trusted hearts.

"We had wondered if we would see you today," followed easily. Before Marian was brushing the warm, wet nose still breaking apple bits off over one palm. "Well, perhaps not her." Marian amended, eyes bright against for the winter chill. "She likely sees you quite often."