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The Lost Islands
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Martyr

The blue roan stallion made his way northward from the coast, from the direction of his newly settled home in the southern jungles of the Harbor. He hadn't been on this central island for a time. Between relocating from one island to another and trying to familiarize himself with his new home, there simply hadn't been enough time.

Martyr had not sought out the company of mares in some time. There had been a few over the years who had decided to live with him, but no one stayed. Had he just not had room in his heart for them then? There had been so much unanticipated turmoil: the disappearance of his father, the death of his mother and younger sister, his brother and nephew that had needed rearing, leaving home. returning home. The thought of it all made his head feel light and his skin seem too tight around him.

Not that he would outright admit it, the overo was still recovering. His nerves were slowly beginning to unwind. It helped that the territory duties would be spread among so many in the Harbor. Time had finally been allowed for rest. Now, here he was: finally trying his lot with strangers. It was normal, yet unfamiliar after so long. After following the river west from the coast, the roar of the Falls finally met his ears. Waterfalls had not been commonplace, even back home. So, he ventured closer.

From some way away, his pale eyes took in the sight of another. Feathering lay about their feet, rustling some in the breezes of plummeting water and its outward spray. It was a mare, smattered with white and a gentle cream. It took him a minute or two to stroll around the curve of the pool in her direction. He felt it had taken long enough that she had likely seen him approach. Martyr gave her a casual smile, hoping he wasn't encroaching on any sought-on solitude.

"They are beautiful, are they not," he questioned, turning his white-marked face in the direction of the cascade. His pale eyes went back to her, to her face, to try and detect anything she might wordlessly convey about having company. Some mares didn't want company, and that was alright. Martyr knew he wouldn't want any of his time alone to be intruded upon if he had specifically sought it out.


blue roan overo mustang mutt stallion . 16.1 hands



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