Losing to Marceline hadn't wounded Rehoboam's pride nearly as much as it might have when he was a younger stallion. He had hoped to bring in the placid-looking stallion in the hopes of shifting the balance in the Lagoon ever more slightly in Nahawi's favor prior to this new election, but he was rusty. Reh hadn't fought for anyone or anything in a long time, and while he was cautiously hopeful about the swamp's prospects, he was not holding his breath.

He turned at the sound of his name, his brow wrinkled in confusion as he considered how dangerous it would be to answer. There were few in this fetid landscape that knew him these days, and fewer still that would call for him. The only thing that motivated his feet into motion was that it was not a feminine voice, and could not, therefore be Nyimara.

"What happened?" Rehoboam asked bluntly as he arrived, having taken in the panicky, sweaty state of the young Boss. The red dun didn't seem outwardly injured, but it was obvious something had him all worked up, and the tobiano had not the faintest clue what that might be.

StallionMutt15.2hGrullo TobianoSolomon x Keres