His exploration appeared much like the curiosity of a wandering colt than the prowling of a greedy stallion. Peyote stopped at various flowers and plants and bugs and creatures he had never seen before, giving them an inspection before he carried on. The varying equine scents that hung off the jungle leaves and vines were tested and learned; the lessons his sire had taught him as a foal kicked themselves in automatically. It was all too easy to pick out the strongest and most prominent scent, and it was all too soon before Peyote realized it was getting stronger and stronger yet.
The wind was carrying it from above as if beckoning him to meet the horse who most likely led these lands, given their scent was so saturated across its border. Peyote hesitated only briefly, not because he feared coming across a territory leader, but because that wasn’t meant to be his objective. Having the lead be the first horse he met absolutely meant he would be leaving here without a little prize clutched to his side. He could always double back, sneak off into the jungle the way he came and try to lose whoever it was if they pursued him…
Peyote’s black-lined ears flicked and he turned his skull-white face to glance down his dark-lined back, then looked forward down the hoof-worn path winding up ahead of him. It was then he heard the snort - loud and powerful, rumbling from a deep chest. Briefly Peyote remembered being young and scrappy, when he’d trail after his father’s shadow to watch him clash his body recklessly against the behemoth of the Ridge; Psychedelic’s last enemy. Peyote’s ear flicked forward and then back. It couldn’t be the Ridge beast, for his scent had been all over a different part of the island and the one Peyote had been tracking now was distinctly female.
With a huff, the young stallion started forward, making his way down the path and around the bend that would make both him visible and make the other horse visible to him. At the sight of her he came to a slow halt, too much room between them for them to stretch necks and touch; they’d have to walk a few steps closer to one another. Peyote wasn’t willing to get into striking-range so quickly with this one, one sweep of his gaze down her hide showed the many marks of a tried and tested warrior. Instead he lifted his chin, blue eyes peering at her beneath his fray of dark bangs, and blew a breath at her, waiting for whether she aimed to talk or jump straight to physicality and drive him away.
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