Common

Though the young stallion had rested his weary and beaten body, a uncomfortable restlessness still managed to take its hold on him. It was like an itch he could not scratch. Bacardi wanted nothing more than to stay near the mare and child he called his own, drowning in the thoughts that plagued him from the battle and what he had done wrong to lose along with the conversation with Valka. But he couldn’t ignore it, and with careful hobbling steps, the painted stallion found himself slipping into the sea’s grasp.

Surprisingly the cool water helped to dull the throb of pain in his shoulder, and with each ache filled stroke it began to ease. When he pulled himself up onto the shore of the Crossing, Bacardi found it was not so painful after all. The wounded shoulder flexed better, made limber by the swim, and it also made it easier to travel further inland after shaking off the salty water that clung to his thickening coat.

When Bacardi finally took note of where he ended up, the young stallion was surprised that it was the Commons he now stood in. He could not recall the last time it had been so busy, and his golden eyes trailed the ones coming together for conversation. No doubt leaders vying for bodies to fill their home. But when Bacardi spotted the red and white mare standing alone, he forgot the rest. The way she pawed the ground and held her head, he could tell she was filled with the same fire that burned the sun.

Rather than turned away by her actions, Bacardi made his way over to her. She was young like him, her delicate face free from lines. He couldn’t help but offer her a friendly smile, his ears perking towards her in interest. “You have come to a particularly dangerous place. Though I feel that does not daunt you.” Bacardi said in greeting.

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

"...speech"