Common

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To say that Pippin was unambitious would be accurate, but describe only a half-truth. He didn't get the urge to reach for more than one needed to feel warm and happy. He was neither covetous nor jealous. He was, in the simplest of descriptions, quite disappointing to his proud and powerful sire - but he'd also mercifully remained oblivious to that scorn.

For the most part.

At some point even his suspicions had begun to grow, but by then he clung so desperately to the illusion of contentment that he convinced himself that he was just being paranoid. "We didn't," Pippin replied a bit sheepishly. Hard enough to admit you got dragged out to sea trying to save yourself a bit of trotting distance, harder still to admit that it was because you were a bit too soft to tolerate marching double-time for a whole day. Imagine the horror still to come, when he realizes he didn't even wash up onto the same shore - upstream, downstream, or otherwise.

Do you need somewhere safe to go? The roan stallion glanced uncertainly at the shadowed, indistinct landscape before him and the foreboding sea behind. Dawn was still a ways off, however sure he could be that the sun would return. Doubtless it would be safer to wait out the night in company than to sit here stubbornly and wait for something pointier than the big colt to notice him. Finally, he said, "I...think that might be a good idea."

A beat of silence fell between them, filled only with the dull roar of the ocean.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen a guy named Hannes pass this way recently, would you? Or Puck?" His tone suggested he felt that it was exactly as much of a longshot as it was, but he felt weird not at least asking.