A few birds echoed their calls throughout the thick jungle of Atlantis. The waves of the ocean crawling up the shoreline followed their methodic soundtrack, sounding as the territories namesake for all the world to hear. The older, mature stallion with scars littering his white-flecked golden hide had fallen into a familiar pattern – walking the border of the territory every dawn and every evening. It was larger now that the island was only divided into two homes rather than the previous four (including the middle of the island which had once proved as a meeting area of sorts) and took more time from his day. Not a complaint would come from Tarrant’s lips, however, for he’d grown too accustom to spending time by himself these days.

Maybe that was problem one.

A more energetic, firecracker of a stallion may see trouble here – an older stallion who didn’t seem to possess the drive to claim and hoard mares could potentially be seen as an easy target. Tarrant, of course, did not feel as if he was, but who was to stop others from making such assumptions? It wouldn’t stir him to drag mares into Paradise, however. Sanctuary was here on Atlantis for any who may wish for it.

Turning inland, Tarrant had just looped around to where he’d begun in the morning and started walking through the thick, green vegetation when he noticed a familiar young figure nearby. A loud whinny erupted from his lips, rumbling from deep in his broad chest, and Tarrant moved to share breaths with the chestnut before stepping back as ease relaxed the muscles beneath his coat. “Sokka,” he called the boy by name and quietly felt the flutter of sadness which afflicted Tarrant when he thought of how the colt’s father and mother had yet to return. “How are you?”