“There’s a couple things I’d like to see you start doing come next spring,” his father mentioned one morning over their regular morning talks. Castillon had pulled his head away from the particularly delicious patch of fresh clover he’d uncovered and felt briefly confused. He thought he’d been nailing it while acting as second-in-command. He had a small herd, didn’t he? Children of his own already? What was there left he hadn’t done?
Ah, the arrogance of youth.
“You need to visit our allies, ask how their herds are fairing, touch base and make sure to keep the alliances strong. Politicking is just as important in being here to keep your herd safe.”
Politicking? Castillon felt briefly nervous. He’d gone with his father when Zevulun went to establish their recent alliance with the Thicket, but he was worried he wouldn’t do it correctly when he didn’t have his father beside him. What if he made the Prairie look like a joke to these more established, capable, older leaders? He did his best not to show his fear across his face at that moment.
“You should try walking the common areas on Crossing Isle on occasion, making sure there are no new coming horses who are finding their lack of knowledge for the islands is getting them into any sort of trouble.”
“Oh,” Castillon remembered he’d said, surprised at how much sense that made. He was about to ask Zevulun why he didn’t do that any more, but one glance at his sire’s scarred up leg and left hip reminded him to keep his mouth shut. “Well, there’s no time like the present,” he would’ve shrugged if he could, but he managed a grin that matched one Zevulun also often wore. “I’m not doing anything else today, I can take a swim over to Crossing.”
Truly he was mostly excited because it meant he could head down to the Ruins to see Chati, Nephilim, and their sons. But Castillon didn’t mention that, he only took off from the Prairie and made for the Crossing Isle, skirting his way down the Peak shoreline (though he was immensely curious about this land of all mares) and toward the mingling areas. He only meant to skirt around them, but was not likely going to engage in any conversations as his father expected him to. The sooner he did this little “run by” the sooner he could make his way on to the Ruins.
Then, the buckskin snowcap pulled to a slow, steady halt, eyes stuck on the vaguely speckled dark mare standing off on her own. She wouldn’t be alone for very long considering how beautiful she was and the season they were in. His dark brown eyes cast a quick sweep around them and, when he saw no stallions rushing in, he let loose a soft beckoning whinny, hoping to draw her attention before he tossed his head and trotted toward her.
(He made sure to lift his knees high so his muscles would flex beneath his golden coat.)
“Well, hello,” he said, smiling already as he came to a polite stop before her, offering his muzzle for a few lingering exchanges of scents before tucking his chin back. “I’m Castillon. Could I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
Oh, ever the gentleman. He’d surely picked up a few too many tricks from his dad’s playbook.
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