cinnamon
Summer on Tinuvel was gorgeous, but Cinnamon was growing bored and rather lonely. Goose was friendly and good company, but Zharko was often out on his own adventures and there was rarely anyone else to talk to in the Bay. Goose had a few mare companions, but Cinnamon had not yet met them, and was wary of doing so and overstepping boundaries. He still considered himself new to the territory. Perhaps, he thought, he would go out on an adventure of his own, and gather some stories to talk about with the other Bay residents when he returned. He hadn’t done anything very exciting since coming to the islands, so on a whim one morning he made his way to the Tinuvel shore and began the journey to the Crossing.
It was lovely and warm on the winter island, but on the Crossing it was downright hot. Cinnamon had blown out his winter coat, but his fur was still thick, and his body was accustomed to the chillier weather and cool winds that swept across the tundra of his home. He spent a few minutes at the edge of the trees, resting in the shade, allowing the gentle breeze to dry his salt-stiffened coat and cool him. He turned his head to groom his crimson fur with a few rough scrapes of his blunt teeth and then carried on inland.
In the Common, the red stallion found a comfortable nook in the shade of some trees where he grazed for a while and watched. He did not recognize any of the horses here, though he could tell they were not new based on scent and behavior; well, most were not new. In the tangle of foliage close to where Cinnamon was standing, a grey mare stood. She smelled of the ocean, but she did not look lost here. He tilted his head, wondering whether or not to approach; he was generally one to mind his own business, but he was also lonely today, and he was curious about the somewhat-newcomer’s story.
In the end, he decided it did not hurt to at least say hello. He wove his way through the trees toward the gray mare, pausing a short distance away to give out a friendly whinny. "Hey there," he said in his slight-southern drawl, his deep voice low and soft. "How was your swim?"
stallion // 16hh // EE A+a nSty // of the Bay
she marks her fingerprints
in my skin
i breathe her perfume in
and it burns like heroin
now she's in me
and i can't let her go
