Autumn; one step closer to winter and one step closer to some peace and quiet. It wasn’t that Ceolwulf didn’t like the boisterousness of the warmer seasons, except, it was exactly that. The laughter and the lanky, curious foals irked him. He preferred it when everyone was cold and miserable, just like the dull, purple-grey sky on a bitter winter’s day. In his opinion, fall couldn’t pass fast enough, though luckily the leaves were already beginning to curl and brown, rotting in great stinking piles beneath the trees. He stood to the side of one such pile, the empty branches above him providing only the most meagre of shade from the glare of the sun. It was uncharacteristically warm and humid, which brought only the slightest of satisfied sneers to his dark lips when he noted how uncomfortable it was making everyone.

Just a shame it was making him uncomfortable at the same time.

Huffing a sharp breath, he abandoned his post and moved over to a patch of well-trodden earth that had become a slick pool of pale brown mud during the last bout of rain. His dark legs folded beneath his battle-scarred body and he lowered himself with a grunt, and rolled. When he was finished, he stood, thick congealed clumps of liquid earth dripping off him so that he resembled some great beast from the belly of the underworld.

XY . IBERIAN MUTT . BLACK . EE aa nPrl . 15.2 HH
Styrke x Solveig