Common

It was quiet; too quiet to be of any comfort. It allowed the voices and thoughts in his head to be louder, overtaking any rationality that Bacardi usually carried. Though he had come for answers to quell his curiosity, he had left the Lagoon feeling even more lost than before. Felony. Though he had never heard that name mentioned before, it made his mind wander back to the fleeting imagine of his father’s expression when Ruger had looked upon his young son. Had that been the distaste in those golden wolfish eyes that Bacardi shared? That he had seen the Lagoon man in his son? Bacardi needed more. He needed to know what it was that loomed over him for as long as he could remember; the shadow his mother had done her best to protect him from. The only one who would know, would be Ruger.


Bacardi stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes distant and his face pulled tight with worry and doubt. Should he go and see his father before he returned to the Bay? Valka was more than capable on her own to protect their family, but he did not want her to worry as to where he had gone. Or whether he would be back or not. Maybe he could even find counsel in the little mare. At least let her know where he would be straying to in the coming seasons, if he could not simply let this go.


No, the stallion didn’t think he could let this go.


With a new destination firmly in mind, Bacardi finally seemed aware of his surroundings. Head lifting, ears perking, he looked around to find he had wandered into the Commons. He had often strayed here when he was young and would venture out of the Peak. Trying his best to protect the mares that had come here unknowingly into danger. That same feeling found him now as he looked out and saw the small buckskin mare still damp with sea water. He couldn’t help but smile slightly seeing her fluffy coat still clinging to her. It was like she was meant to go with him. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking?


“Hey” he called out to her as he strode over to the mare. Perhaps not the most charming of greetings, but Bacardi wasn’t one to try and be cunning or deceiving. “You’ve picked a dangerous place to watch the sunset.” Or maybe she knew and just didn’t care?

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

"...speech"