The young woman was on the ground. The tears had passed, and all she was doing was laying on the ground aimlessly. Her food, her supplies, horses, everything was gone. Then, she heard a sound, a rustling through the foliage of the forest, and looking over, her puffy eyes widened in amazement. A young man in a cloak with hair like snow was approaching, and in each hand he had the reigns to the horses whom had been lost to the forest. She rubbed her eyes, not knowing what to expect or say.
The young man was unsure what to say or do either. He smiled shyly, his nerves boiling. Behind him, a small faerie hovered, making sure not to be seen, yet refusing to hide in the cloak. They both knew how bad this could end up, but the young man wanted to at least try. The black mare nickered happily at the sight of her master.
"Um, m... This mare here seems to know you, miss. Would you happen to know where she came from?"
The changeling appears in a lot of European folklore, and it's age and intention vary per story. That being said, who knows what this one's is?