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Brown dusted boots scuffed the dirt caking the ground, the rain that occurred the night before had caused the dirt to dampen creating a muddy substance.
The trail of mud scattered behind the curly haired brunette as she stopped near the edge of the dirt path, watching patiently as a car pulled up slowly before stopping.
The Morelli woman stood with her hands held in front of her as she greeted the short haired woman that stepped out from the cream vehicle. A small grin formed on Leticia's lips as she spoke kindly, "You must be May Carleton. I'm—"
"Leticia Morelli. Yes, I'm aware." The elegant tone in which the figure spoke cut Lettie off abruptly but not rudely.
Leticia didn't take offense, instead her grin only stayed as she nodded her head once, "Well then, let's get started."
The Carleton woman nodded back in acknowledgement, her gaze sweeping across the area before her in astonishment, "So, this is Small Heath. It's very..."
Lettie and May walked side by side, the Morelli woman tried to finish for her in thought of what previous people had described to her, "Gloomy? Quaint?"
"Loud." The Carleton woman professed after sparing a quick glance to the hazel eyed beauty. Leticia understood what she was referring to. The factories that burned fuel not too far from where they were, the gears squeaking from what sounded like machines breaking down, and the ghastly roars of gambling men and wild city residents. To May it felt noise was coming from every which way.
Leticia hummed quietly, her humor poking through vaguely, "Welcome to Birmingham."
The sight of Curly walking beside the very horse they were all there for made a new conversation arise. Lettie uncrossed her arms from her chest as she spoke aloud, "Ah, there she is."
"She looks in very good condition." May announced, the woman couldn't help but to walk forwards to greet the horse once the two approached.
Once stopped, Leticia dug out her white sticks. Retrieving one from her pack, she slid it between her lips as she patted for her lighter, "I have the best trainers. Curly here is one of the best horseman in England. Sadly, my main adviser has fallen ill. That's why you're here."
"As for the best, I have a man called Micky who'd argue the point." The Carleton woman placed both her gloved hands on the side of the filly's back in awe of her beauty.
