Ruger
stallion | 15.3hh | EE aa TT | son of the wolf
The muttered words caught his attention, an ear flicking back at her first before he stopped and turned his head to peer back at the young filly. Although she looked nothing like Zimri aside from the coat color, the same fearfully wounded expression touched this mare’s face as it had his beloved. But Ruger wasn’t a young scrawny stallion anymore; he was a matured and scarred brute that looked too much like his blood stained father than he cared to admit. Ruger wasn’t sure he could offer this mare any comfort, not in the way she most likely needed.
“There is a cave.” He spoke up then, bringing his eyes up to the falls. “Behind the water, no one will be able to find you inside.” The cascading water did well to hide scents, the crashing sound hiding any sounds. Ruger brought his lupine gaze back down to the young mare then, not knowing of anything else he could offer her. At least, any offers she would take.
With a swish of his tail, Ruger didn’t hesitate any longer. He stepped away, his intent to leave the pour creature alone. Maybe she would find her own knight as he had once been called; one that could rescue her and make her feel safe. Not the son of a wolf; not a creature of the dark.
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