It seemed unreal, what he was doing. Bacardi had never envisioned himself to claim a land and attempt to start a herd, yet here he was, standing on his own land. It made him proud in a way, to be finding his footing as a young stallion. He hoped he could be successful, but a deep nagging fear made him wonder if he would fail. Shoving away those thoughts, the painted boy moved from the sandy beach of Luthien and into the cold grasp of the sea. He swam with purpose, his eyes locked on the Crossing. It was time to face the Peak sisters, and say his farewell, but not goodbye.


They would always be family to him.


As Bacardi climbed out of the water and shook away the salty liquid, he didn’t bother to wait and dry before heading to the Peak. He lurched into a long trot, carrying himself swiftly to the territory he had called home for so long. Only strands of his mane and tail were left damp when he finally reached it, pausing at the base as he peered up the mountainside. Would Wasp be there? Božena? Swallowing down his nerves, Bacardi began to climb.


Lost in thought, the trek up the mountain did not seem to take long. When he finally reached one of the higher points where the mares liked to frequent did he stop. Golden eyes sweeping over the view such height offered, Bacardi couldn’t help but smile, though felt a twinge of sadness. Would this be the last time he came here? The young stallion only lingered on the thought a few moments before he called out to the sisters, his voice echoing on the crisp air. It was time to face reality.

three years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the savanna.

"...speech"