The stallion rose up slowly from the dirt, a few flicks of his tail dusting him off. He nodded to her and began to walk once she was dressed again, the sundress loose enough to hide the bulge in her belly. As she guided him into the stable again, she asked him a rather odd question that caused him to shake his head. “I’m a slave, and my old master saw no reason to give me a name. I am the only stallion here, I’ve just been called that…” He didn’t seem particularly sad about it, since it really didn’t affect him. Names were important for people who needed a name, like her or her father. He was just a worker, he didn’t really need to be addressed by anything else. It was clear that he had been raised a slave, not one of the random captures that sometimes showed up on a property… He was well trained to listen to all requests without question.