Common

When Bacardi had returned to the Forest, he had stewed over the fact he had gone to the Commons the way that he had. It was wrong; he knew that from the time he was old enough to understand words. But he couldn’t bring himself to challenge other leads, to rip apart families for the sake of filling the Forest with life, laughter and love as he craved. At least those that were in the Commons did not have those sorts of ties. They were either looking to change the life that they had, or were new to the Islands and didn’t know any better, not yet having roots in any one place.


In the end, the silence of the Forest won, and the painted stallion returned to the Commons.


The end of the season was drawing near; the vegetation starting to die back from the chill of each night. Even though it hadn’t been that long since Bacardi had come to the Crossing, he could see the difference in it the moment he stepped from of the salt water lapping at the shore. Soon, it would be completely dead, and then covered in a blanket of snow. Bacardi didn’t know if he would come back during the winter season, or if he would come back at all. The stallion carried enough guilt over his last visit, just as he would this one too.


Just like last time; Bacardi tried for the Falls first, and then the Meadows. Doing what he could to avoid the Commons. Fate seemed to have other ideas though. Keeping him from finding anyone until he had made it to the very place he didn’t want to go. Pausing just along the edge, he scanned the open field before his golden eyes spotted the grey mare. Unlike Syrah, with her faked grazing and fizzing excitement, this one seemed to hold a more sobering edge to her. Bacardi wondered what had brought her here, and with such a solemn expression upon her face?


Shaking out his nearly dry mane, Bacardi decided to approach, so he walked over to her. His ears tipped forward and his golden eyes curious as he stopped in front of her. “You seem like you picked this place on purpose.” he said in greeting.

mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the forest.

"...speech"