Common

The air was fresher here.

In the trees, he is spoiled by the shade. The winter there is a little less harsh- the snow filtering only gently through the trees, and the sound of it falling from branches heard echoing through the shadows as winter began to grow old. Even now, with the softest sprinkling of rain falling upon the common isle, there is a sort of warmth to the air that was not there before.

It would only be a short matter of time before spring was upon them. It spoke of new life, and perhaps he was almost excited to see what children graced the trees of the forest.

For his children had gone and grown, and he was ever so alone in the forest- try as he might.

This is what drags him from the comforting shadows of his home, where he had worn down the trails with his hooves and where he had begun to re-familiarize himself with the trees that he once knew so well. This island, though often the passage-grounds between here and there, was less familiar to him, and when he graced the sandy snow with his red feet, he felt a sort of freshness in the air.

There are strange faces, some clinging to the trees and disappearing towards the falls, others stretching out their great, strong legs and setting into speed through the meadow, shaking the wet from their bones and relishing the momentary sunlight. The weather here was milder than in his home, and it promised wonderful things. He could taste it in the air, a new coming. Any day now.

A woman, darker than he in colour and fairer haired, stood almost delicately amongst the strangers, turning a brave face towards the great opening, and no doubt seeing his arrival. Their eyes seem to connect, and he is drawn forwards, curving his strong neck and tucking a grey muzzle towards his breast. It was not his mission to seek out companionship, but there was a sort of hollowness to the forest that perplexed him. Perhaps he would do his part.

Once close enough, he regards her for a moment, face to face, before seemingly jolted with a little realization and reaching towards her to brush his warm lips across her shoulder. Just in case. “I hope you were not alone long.” He says, after deftly stepping away should her mood foul and her teeth try to seek his skin. Necessary precautions in a land where he had met many bitter women in only a few short days. “My name is Vercingetorix, Citizen of the Forest.” He has no title, for it seems all are equal amongst the trees- but there is a sort of pride in being able to call the great whispering pines his home once again.